


Demons Aren't Real (So What Are You?)

by SuperBlondie



Series: Real People Who Pissed Off Demons (And Paid for It) [1]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Biting, Demon!Chanyeol, Demon!Lay, Demon!Luhan, Demon!Yifan, Eventual Smut, Horror-ish, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Referenced Child Abuse, Soulmates, Supernatural - Freeform, but then the person who says it dies like all homophobes should :), got7 mentioned, it's hardly there but i want to be clear about it, kid!zitao, marking?? i guess, one instance of a homophobic slur, referenced character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-02-23 05:16:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 95,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13183119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperBlondie/pseuds/SuperBlondie
Summary: Junmyeon should never have listened to his heart (but thank god he did.) The house is old, but the thing inside it is much, much older.





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my baby. I have been working on it for 5 months now and it's almost finished so I decided to start uploading it. This will be updated every other week, likely on Fridays in conjunction with my other fic. This is my first foray into anything horror-y and I hope I do it justice. This is the first in a series of fics in this verse so lets kick it off right!  
> Thank you so much AarushiC_18 for betaing this story and coming up with so many good ideas for titles and being blunt about any awkward scenes!

The house is old, _rustic_ , the realtor had said. It’s still got the original siding from back when it was built in the forties. The realtor had said it like it was a good thing, but Junmyeon can’t find much of anything good at all. He’s a little in love with the way the vines grow up the side of the house though. He especially likes the stone walkway leading up from the street, likes how he can hop from stone to stone like a little kid – not that he does, because he’s a grown adult looking into buying a house for the first time – but he likes how he can. He’s surprised at how nice the roof and windows look, hardly older than a few years, despite the realtor’s insistence that they’re from the sixties. It looks like it fits right in as the only house in the entire cul-de-sac.

The realtor is still chatting in his ear, talking about open floor plans and a two-car garage. Junmyeon knows he should pay attention; his mother would scold him for his rudeness if she was here, but he can’t focus on anything other than the house. It makes his stomach twist in way he can’t label as good or bad. The rational part of him, the Junmyeon that plans and does schoolwork and makes sure that he eats a healthy diet, is telling him to turn around and leave. The commute to work is too long, it’s probably a fixer-upper, the lawn will be hell to maintain. The other part of him, the Junmyeon that somehow always knows when Minseok needs him and always picks the fastest line at the grocery store, is telling him to start moving his stuff in right this minute.

“Enough about the outside,” the realtor, Donna, he thinks is her name, motions for him to follow her the rest of the way up to the house, “I bet you’re dying to see what it looks like on the inside!”

She leads him right up to the one thing he’s been hopelessly drawn to since he first pulled up: the front door. It hasn’t been repainted since the day the house was built, and it shows in the chips and cracks in the nearly maroon paint. Still, Junmyeon can’t take his eyes off it. It makes him scared and excited, like when he’s just about to crest the first hill on a rollercoaster and he can’t decide whether to laugh or scream. There’s something about the door that makes him feel a little more alive when he looks at it. He almost doesn’t want her to touch it just in case it breaks whatever spell it has over him.

As captivated he is by the door, there’s something telling him that he shouldn’t go any closer. _It’s dangerous, sweet little Junmyeon. You don’t want to go anywhere near it._ It doesn’t feel like it’s coming from within him, more like someone is whispering it into his ear. Junmyeon really doesn’t like it, how it sounds like nails on a chalkboard inside his mind. It gets louder the longer he stares, and suddenly he feels like he can’t breathe. _Leave. Leave. Leave! Leave! Leave!_ It’s hissing in his ears now, buzzing like a swarm of wasps and it’s getting louder and louder and louder and _louder_. He can’t breathe and he’s going to be sick and it won’t _stop_. He can taste the bile in the back of his throat, and he knows his heart must be pounding but he can’t hear it over the godawful noise in his ears. And then it’s all gone like it was never there in the first place.

Donna opens the front door and a small draft comes out, blowing the panic and the awful hissing out of his body. _It’s gone now, you’re safe_. It feels like someone is murmuring into his ear, soft and sweet. Junmyeon doesn’t think he’s ever had a panic attack end that fast before. In fact, he feels so relaxed that he doesn’t realize he’s starting to doze off on his feet until his eyes flutter shut. He scolds himself for staying up so late last night with Minseok; buying a house is a big deal and he doesn’t want to screw it up by falling asleep before the showing can even begin.

“I am so sorry about the exterior of the house. I was told that someone would be coming out to power-wash the siding and fix up the door,” if Donna noticed his minor panic attack, she doesn’t show it. She still has the same cheery tone she’s been using since he first called her up about the ad in the paper about a cheap old house for-sale, “I can get it taken care of before you move in.” Something in his gut twists at the idea of a plain, cookie-cutter door staring back at him. He doesn’t particularly like the grimy baby blue siding, but he can’t get himself to even fathom what it would look like without the vines crawling up the sides.

“No, no, it’s perfectly fine. I don’t mind it at all,” he says without taking his eyes off the front door. He knows that Donna must be looking at him like he’s strange, he’s not unfamiliar with that reaction after people spend more than a few minutes with him, but she doesn’t say anything in response. After all, it’ll cost her less money to leave the house the way it is.

She motions for him to follow her inside and opens the door wide open as she walks passed. Junmyeon nearly freezes when his foot passes over the threshold. The hissing comes back tenfold and it feels like he’s trying to wade through molasses. _Get out! Getoutgetoutgetoutgetout!_ He can’t do it, he can’t go in. He wants to go home. He doesn’t want this in his head anymore, it makes the panic threaten to tear him open from the inside out. His foot settles on the hardwood floor and he can feel the bile rising in his throat. _Rrrrrip!_ Like a shirt being torn in half. It’s loud and quiet all at the same time. Junmyeon hears nothing at all for a few heartbeats. _Shhh…Come in, darling._ Murmuring syrupy sweet in his ear and then he’s in the house and closing the front door behind him.

The inside of the door looks nothing like the outside. It looks brand new, not a single imperfection in the red paint. It gives Junmyeon the oddest kind of dissonance. He knows that the door is probably close to three times his age, but he’ll be damned if the inside doesn’t look like it was put in a few hours before he arrived. The hardwood floors look brand new, so shiny they almost look wet. The little furniture he can see - a coatrack and a chest sitting nestled together to the left of the door - are little worn around the edges but are still in wonderful condition. The chest has multiple faded multicolor stains on its lid and the coatrack is scuffed at the bottom like someone’s been stepping on it when they take of their shoes, but there’s no sign of aging, not even the thinnest layer of dust.

“When did you last have the house cleaned, ma’am? Everything looks like it was just dropped in from Ikea or something,” Junmyeon is actually a little impressed at how nice everything looks; Donna must really want to sell this house. He laughs awkwardly when the realtor fixes him with an embarrassed stare. He never meant to make her feel embarrassed! “I mean, it’s beautiful! If I didn’t already know how old the house is, I’d say it doesn’t look a day over twenty.” Donna continues to stare and Junmyeon wants the earth to open up and swallow him whole. How does he always manage to put his foot in his mouth like this?

“I haven’t had this house cleaned, ever. Not since I became the realtor responsible for it. I walked into the house ten years ago, and it looked exactly as it does now. Well, the outside was in better condition, but everything inside is the exact same,” Donna’s realtor smile has dropped and she’s tracing an odd-looking section in the wall absentmindedly. It looks like some tried to paint over whatever was there before, but the previous design is still slightly visible. “Everything is the same.” She looks a little lost in thought, a little like how Junmyeon has been since he stepped foot outside his car.

This house does strange things to people, he decides. But he still doesn’t want to leave. He feels safe here, like he’ll be taken care of just like the rest of the inside of the house. Parts of the house look almost brand new, and yet there are badly repainted sections of the wall and stains on the furniture. As Donna traces the pattern on the wall, Junmyeon realizes that they’re characters, Chinese probably. He doesn’t notice it at first, too preoccupied trying to read the characters on the wall - Minseok knows some Mandarin, enough to help him figure out what the characters say - but his feet are moving of their own accord, carrying him into the living room. It’s an awfully large living room, at least twice as big as the one in Minseok’s apartment.

It’s carpeted, old tan shag carpeting from the seventies, and it looks so soft Junmyeon wants to roll in it. He thinks he sees a stain in the middle of the room, a rusty splotch roughly the size of a kiddie pool that make his stomach twist, but it blinks in and out of his vision as he stares. He looks away when feels a headache begin to pound in his temples. A child’s laughter echoes from behind him, but when he whirls around to find the source of the noise there’s only Donna standing in the archway. The child’s voice comes back again, this time in a scream, and Junmyeon nearly jumps out of his skin at the sound. He’s never heard a kid scream like that. Hell, he’s never heard any adult scream like that outside of the horror movies Minseok makes him watch every Halloween. It’s a choked-off scream, like they lost all their air mid-sound. Junmyeon’s entire body shivers.

“I didn’t want to show you this room yet, Mr. Kim,” Donna says with a frown. She’s staring at the carpet behind him, completely oblivious to the unease wracking his body. “It was supposed to be the front hallway, then the upstairs bedroom, the downstairs bedrooms, the bathrooms, and then the kitchen and living room.” She looks so tired, so sad as she stares into the living room. It doesn’t make sense to Junmyeon as to why she’d want to show him this last, not when it’s on the way to the downstairs bedrooms and bathrooms and across from the kitchen.

He blinks, and dark lines, like scorch marks, cover all the walls he can see. There’s an odd shape above the archway, twisted and nasty and it makes him nauseous. Another blink and they’re gone, leaving only Donna’s regretful stare in their place. “W-why,” he coughs, throat oddly dry when he tries to speak. Junmyeon clears his throat and tries again. “Why did you want to show me the living room last?”

He turns to follow Donna’s line of sight to where the stain he thought he saw before was. The logical part of him has finally caught up from where he left it outside the house. It pushes all the strange things that have happened, the front door, the panic-inducing hissing, the soft murmurs, the way nothing the house looks like it’s aged, the child’s laughter and scream, and the way he keeps seeing things he isn’t sure are real, and tells him that he doesn’t want to know. Something small moves in his peripheral, peeking out from behind the couch. A soft gasp, and then it’s gone again. It’s remarkably similar to earlier laughter, and there’s a niggling at the back of his mind that there’s a puzzle here for him to solve. Junmyeon likes puzzles almost as much as he likes lists. He doesn’t want to know why Donna was so reluctant to show him the living room, but he _has_ to know. Junmyeon has always held his curiosity back, played it safe, but this need to be in this house, to solve whatever puzzle is laid out before him is much too strong for him to resist.

Her eyes flicker towards the couch like she saw the shadow too and an unreadable emotion passes through them before a cheery mask settles over her face, “It’s the best room in the house, so I thought I’d save the best for last!” The realtor’s voice is brittle with false cheer, and she doesn’t step into the living room. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Junmyeon nods, but feels uneasy, like she’s hiding something.

“Yes,” he says quietly, “it’s very spacious.” He wants to ask for the truth, but something holds him back. His mother is in his head chastising him to be polite and not press such a sore topic. The puzzle lays unsolved in his mind, beckoning him to find out all the answers. Still, he knows that now isn’t the time to go digging.

The logical part of him is waving him back towards the front door like an air traffic controller; with all the things that have happened in the short time he’s been near and in this house, he should be sprinting towards the door like the hounds of hell are on his heels. He wonders if this is how white people in horror movies feel when he asks, “Can I see the rest of the house, Donna?”

The woman pushes a strand of graying blonde hair back behind her ear and gives him a much more genuine smile, “Of course! Now, I know the kitchen is a bit dated, but all of the appliances are in top-notch condition.” She beckons him to follow her across the hall to the kitchen, and his body follows even as his mind stays in the living room to pick apart every odd encounter he’s had in this old house.

Junmyeon likes lists. He likes to make them, to cross things off of them, everything. As Donna tours him through the kitchen, gushing about the counter space and natural light, he makes a list of reasons why he should get the hell out of this house. _One_. He hears voices that don’t exist. _Two_. He had two panic attacks in the span of five minutes. _Three_. The inside of the house hasn’t aged since the sixties. _Four_. He has hallucinated at least twice. _Five_. Donna is hiding something about the house.

Then he makes a list of reasons why he shouldn’t leave and comes up empty.  He just…doesn’t want to leave. It’s a roller coaster of emotions, knowing that he should leave but desperately wishing to stay. At least the kitchen backsplash is nice. While the rational side of him is screaming in terror and frustration, the rest of him is replaying what Minseok had said a few nights ago, _“You really need to have more fun, Junmyeon. Let loose, take risks!”_ He knows without a doubt that staying in this house where he sees and hears things that aren’t there isn’t what Minseok had meant, but that’s the last thing on his mind.

He hears himself making comments here and there about the house, things that he likes or isn’t particularly keen on, but he doesn’t feel like he’s really present. Donna leads him out of the kitchen and back towards the downstairs bedrooms. They stop for a moment to examine the main bathroom, swathed in pale blue and a shower/bathtub. It’s surprisingly nice for how old it is, he thinks, just like everything else in this house.

“The master bedroom and the bedroom upstairs are the only rooms without furniture, so they might look a little bare compared to the rest of the house,” Donna prattles on as she ushers him into the master bedroom, all traces of the funk from the living room gone. She ushers him into the master bedroom, blocking his view of the other downstairs bedroom with her body. He tries to look around her, but she sways to keep his view obscured. It seems natural, just a simple coincidence, but he can see her eyes harden minutely each time he tries to look.

Junmyeon distantly registers the warm chocolate brown of the walls and the soft tan carpet. He’s too preoccupied to really notice much of anything, but he finds himself drawn to the way the sunlight shines in through the windows. It makes him feel cozy and soft, like he could just spend his days curled up in an armchair in the corner with the sunlight brightening up the room. He doesn’t spare the master bathroom any thought; if he doesn’t like it, he can use the other one in the hallway. Junmyeon is distracted by the other downstairs bedroom before he has a chance to analyze just what that the thought signifies to his love-fear relationship with the house.

The door to the other bedroom is directly across the hall. Junmyeon doesn’t see anything special about it until he’s standing right in front of it. There’s off-color brown paint on the door level with his eyes, not wrong enough to be glaringly obvious, but wrong enough to notice. He’s not sure what compels him to, but he finds himself tracing the design still visible underneath the paint with one shaky finger. He traces it once, twice, and on the third time he realizes that they’re the same characters on the wall in next to the front door. It makes him take a step back and he wishes, not for the first time, that he had taken Mandarin with Minseok in high school instead of Latin.

Junmyeon considers asking Donna about the characters, certain that she knows they’re there from the way she traced the ones by the front door, but decides against it. She’s an elderly white woman from rural-ish Wisconsin, why would she know Mandarin? He burns the characters into his retinas and hopes that he’ll recreate them well enough for Minseok to translate tonight in between bites of crappy frozen pizza and episodes of Chopped.

Then he wonders why a house in rural-ish Wisconsin from the forties, that’s been empty since the sixties, would have Mandarin characters written on the walls. He knows that he and Minseok had their names in Korean on their bedroom doors back when they were childhood neighbors in Milwaukee, but they grew up in a mostly Korean neighborhood. Literally everyone that lived within a few blocks from him was East Asian, and even then, it was ninety-percent Korean. Now, he’s one of the two Asian people within a good four or five square miles. If that’s how it is now, he can only imagine how homogenous the town was in the sixties.

“Would you like to see the room, Mr. Kim,” Junmyeon startles out of his thoughts when Donna taps him softly on the shoulder. He gets the odd feeling that he’s been standing there staring at the door for just a tad too long. Donna looks apprehensive about showing him the room, similar to how she looked standing at the edge of the living room.

Junmyeon doesn’t _need_ to see the other downstairs bedroom; he’s already made his decision about the house, even if the rational side of him wishes he hadn’t. So he nods, turns the handle of the door, which feels a little sticky, like it’s been covered in syrup or glue, and lets it swing open.

Before his eyes can even begin to take in the bedroom, he sees the closet door swing shut with a muted thump. It could have been the change in air pressure, maybe the draft from the rest of the house blowing in behind him. He keeps that thought close to his chest as he takes in the room. It’s a kid’s room, that’s for sure. The walls are red and covered in children’s art, crayon drawings with messy handwritten labels. Old toys litter the floor, some that were going out of style when Junmyeon was a kid. He can see that they were well-loved, worn from constant handling but not a single scratched or broken toy to be seen. It feels a lot like walking back in time, with all the retro decorations and furniture. He also notices that one entire wall is covered in Chinese characters, like someone was trying to learn how to write them. In the corner of each drawing, are the same characters on the door and in the front hallway, the artist’s signature.

“A child’s room,” he mutters, mostly to himself. Why has the child’s room been left untouched when the other two bedrooms were stripped bare? Junmyeon turns to ask Donna, but stops when he sees the pained expression on her face. She’s staring at the wall of Mandarin, eyes starting to glisten with tears. The room makes him feel a little sad too, all the toys sitting out and abandoned by a kid who obviously loved them. On the bed, which is unmade – Junmyeon doesn’t know why, but that fact makes him horribly uneasy – is a stuffed bunny. It was probably adorable back in its heyday, but it’s the oldest looking thing the room now. The middle is thinner than the rest, like it’s been constantly squished and held tight. Not even Junmyeon’s favorite cuddly from when was a child looks that well-loved.

Why would a family, a kid in particular, leave all their favorite things behind? The puzzle-box in his mind gets more and more complex with every detail he takes in, and before he realizes it he’s speaking.

“I’ll take the house.”

Donna’s eyes go wide and she blinks at him for a few seconds, “R-really? You’ll take it?”

Junmyeon nods with a hum of affirmation and a warmth settles around him. “It’s a beautiful house that comes with almost an entire house’s worth of furniture. It’s just secluded enough to be private, but I share my backyard with a neighbor in the other subdivision in case anything goes wrong.” Donna flinches hard when he says that, pain washing over her face like she’s been hit. More details for him to put together. “It fits my needs and is more than reasonably priced. I’ll take it.” He fails to mention that he wants to figure out what mystery she and the house are hiding, and that the idea of leaving this house, going against the pull in his gut, makes him feel a little nauseous. The air around him vibrates a little and it reminds him of a cat purring.

Donna still looks shocked, but she smiles and claps her hands together in triumph, “Excellent! I’ll have all the paperwork ready as soon as possible and you can start moving in this weekend! Would you like to meet this week to go over the final paperwork and other last minute things or would you rather wait till this weekend?” She herds him back towards the front of the house as she speaks, not letting him look back over any of the rooms like he might see something that changes his mind. Junmyeon does see a small shadow sitting in the living room, but it just makes him more determined.

He wants to get all things paperwork related done as soon as humanly possible. He’s never enjoyed reading through paragraph after paragraph of technical jargon and he knows how slow the process can be. Still, “I work during this week until around two or so. If it isn’t too much of an inconvenience, we could meet and go over the paperwork then? If not, the weekend is more than fine.” Donna said that he could move in this weekend, and he hopes that isn’t contingent on how fast the final paperwork gets done. It doesn’t seem like anyone else has had their eye on the house in years, but there could always be someone who swoops in with a higher offer than his, not that his is particularly high anyway.

Donna’s eyes brighten, “Ah yes, you’re the new teacher at the elementary school, aren’t you? Kindergartners are always a joy to be around, so full of life and energy.” Junmyeon is still in unsure how he managed to get a job so fast after graduating, especially in a district known for its selectivity with teachers. It was probably thanks to Minseok being the local veterinary technician for the past two years and singing his praises every time the superintendent came in with her Siamese for a check-up. This week he gets to set up his own classroom for the very first time, with Minseok’s help and input, of course.

“I can meet you this Wednesday at four at Millie’s on main? Does that sound good, Mr. Kim?” Junmyeon nods his head with a smile and Donna’s entire being lights up like a Christmas tree. “Oh, I knew I had a good feeling about you, Mr. Kim! Houses have a way of picking their owners, something I’ve learned from my years in real estate.”

They’re by the front door again, and Junmyeon runs a gentle hand down the frame. He thinks of the way the house called to him, how he feels safe inside these walls even with all the hallucinations and inexplicable encounters. The voice in his ear chasing out the panic, the way this house already feels like home. “Yeah,” Junmyeon’s voice is so soft even he can barely hear it, “I think I know what you mean.”

Donna’s head snaps up from where she’s fiddling with the doorknob because the front door is a little stuck, “What was that? I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.” She gives the door a gentle shove and it comes unstuck, nearly causing her to fall with the momentum. Donna gives a little laugh and seems to have forgotten about asking Junmyeon what he said. She waves for him to follow her out the door, and he pauses.

He doesn’t want to leave. He feels so calm here, so safe. Part of him also worries that he’ll have to go back through that awful hissing again and he’s not sure if he can take it. There’s been no reappearance of either the hissing or the other voice, but that doesn’t mean they won’t come back when he returns to move in or any other time after that. Junmyeon’s chest clenches up tight at the thought of having to endure those panic attacks again; he can’t do it, god he can’t. Panic starts to well up in his chest again, and then the soft murmuring from before is in his ear. _It’s not coming back, you’re safe._ He feels like he’s being gently pushed out of the house and he nearly trips over the threshold. He doesn’t remember closing the door behind him, but the lock clicks anyway.

Donna is already heading for her car when Junmyeon tries to speak, the realtor stepping from stone-to-stone with more childish energy than he thought someone her age had. “Donna,” he calls out to her. She stops next to her car and gives him a gentle smile, “Please, call me Junmyeon, if you don’t mind.” He doesn’t know why he says it; he barely knows her, but she feels familiar in a way that he doesn’t really want to be formal anymore. She nods with an even wider smile, then slides into her her car and pulls away from the curb. He can’t help but wonder why she didn’t park in the driveway, but pushes that thought away to focus on the other million questions he has in his head.

Junmyeon feels his thoughts clearing the further away from the house he gets, and he can finally start questioning why he was behaving like the idiot protagonist in a horror movie. Now that he’s alone, he allows himself to hop down the stepping stones, listing off a question with each hop.

 _One._ Did he really see and hear everything he thought he did in the house? _Two._ Why was Donna able to walk into the house with ease while he was attacked by the hissing voices? _Three._ Who did the voices, both malevolent and caring, belong to? _Four._ What do the characters in the front hallway and the child’s bedroom mean, whose name is it? _Five._ What was the real reason Donna didn’t want to show him the living room? _Six._ Why did Donna look so sad in the living room and the child’s bedroom? _Seven_. Why did the master bedroom not have any furniture while the child’s bedroom did? _Eight_. Why was he so drawn to the house? _Nine._ Why did he buy the house at all? _Ten._ Why was it so hard to make himself leave?

He feels like he has to force himself into the car, gritting his teeth against the gnawing in his gut that begs him to stay. He needs to go home, get away from the house and give himself some time to think about what the hell just did by buying it. When he finally cajoles himself into driving away, he swears that he sees a little face peeking out the living room window waving at him. Junmyeon waves back like a man possessed and then throws the car in drive and stomps on the gas, tires squealing a little in his wake.

He's not usually so frantic, so dramatic, but a man appeared in the window next to the child and Junmyeon’s not so sure that he’s hallucinating anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! If you did, I would love it if you were so kind as to leave a kudos and a comment or come talk to me at on [ Twitter. ](https://twitter.com/killmeDO) I also opened up a [ Curious Cat ](https://curiouscat.me/killmeDO) please come ask questions about the story or anything else! (I love talking to you guys and I would love to hear what you think of this story!)


	2. II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 50 kudos on the first chapter?? HOT DAMN! Thank you guys so much for the warm welcome! This fic will be posted every other week from now on, so I hope you guys subscribe so you don't miss any of it! If you want to come talk to me about the story or anything else, all my links are in the end notes!  
> As always, a big thank you to @AarushiC_18 for being the best beta in the entire world!

“Wait, wait, wait,” Minseok moves his feet off of Junmyeon’s lap, some of his Lo Mein hanging out of the corner of his mouth. He slurps it back up, cheeks puffing out like a chipmunk, and tries to talk around it, “What do you mean you saw ‘things’ in the house?” Minseok reaches over and pauses the episode, nearly knocking Junmyeon’s food out of his hands when he doesn’t answer. Junmyeon had tried to hold off telling Minseok about his minor lapse in judgement for as long as he could, but the other man was excited to hear about his best friend’s new house. Now though, Minseok’s cat-like eyes are wide in disbelief and he looks like he’s about to dive under the nearest blanket for cover, the big coward.

Junmyeon sighs and shoves another forkful of rice into his mouth. He’d thought that the Chinese food would get Minseok in the mood to help him translate those characters from the house, but all it did was make him suspicious and give Junmyeon a full view of the weird way Minseok ate noodles. Why did he have to raise them up so high that he could eat them from the bottom up? His mind is getting off track though, and Minseok looks like he’s going to throw Junmyeon’s takeout container into the garbage if he doesn’t start explaining himself.

“I heard voices when I tried to get into the house. One was telling me to leave and the other told me to stay-”

“And you left, I’m assuming,” Minseok cuts him off with a wary look. His eyes go impossibly wide when Junmyeon shakes his head no. “This is like a white person horror movie,” he whispers, gaze flickering over to his ever-growing collection of horror movies next to the television.

Junmyeon frowns and puts his takeout on the coffee table, “I know, but I didn’t want to leave. It felt right to be in the house. I felt, I don’t know, safe.”

“You’re going to get possessed,” Minseok sighs, “You’re going to get possessed and then the demon is going to come and kill me because I know you’re possessed. But finish the story, I want to hear.”

Junmyeon retells his story about the house and all the things that happened. Each new encounter makes Minseok’s frown deepen, but the man doesn’t interrupt again. He looks especially concerned when Junmyeon mentions the stain flickering in and out existence and the few seconds where he saw those strange symbols burned into the walls. The worst part, to Junmyeon, was the child’s scream. He hadn’t realized how badly it had shaken him up until he tries to tell Minseok about it and finds himself shaking. It isn’t that it particularly scared him, no, the hissing still claims top spot for scariest thing to happen him at the house, but it made somewhere deep in his chest ache. No child should ever have to scream like that. Minseok throws an arm around his shoulders and urges him to finish the story; he doesn’t know that Junmyeon is hiding some of the details.

Junmyeon doesn’t tell Minseok how the softer voice called him ‘darling,’ or that it came back to encourage him to leave the house. Something makes him hold back on those details, makes him lock them up tight in his mind where only he can have them. Stranger still, he doesn’t tell Minseok about the man in the window. Minseok knows every detail about the all times Junmyeon saw or heard the little boy, but Junmyeon won’t breathe a word about the man. He tries to rationalize keeping him a secret by telling himself that he only saw the man once, so he must not be too important, but the logical part of his brain kicks up and whispers that the man’s rarity might make him more important than anything else he saw in the house.

When Junmyeon finally finishes the story, Minseok pulls him in tight for a hug. He knows better than anyone just how wild Junmyeon’s curiosity can be and how hard it can be for Junmyeon to fight it. “You don’t have to move into the house, you know that, right? You can call the realtor lady up and tell her you changed your mind. You’re always welcome to stay with me.” The thing is, Junmyeon hasn’t changed his mind. He’s berated himself for his decision more than once or twice, but he still wants the house.

Minseok must see it on his face, because he just sighs and gives Junmyeon a fond smile. “I know you think I’m crazy for believing in ghosts and stuff,” he shushes Junmyeon when he tries to protest, “I’ve seen how you look at me when I watch all that ghost hunting stuff. But if you ever feel unsafe in the house, you can always come over. If your car won’t start because the demon you’re sharing the house with ripped apart your engine, call me and I’ll come get you.”

There’s no judgement or mockery in his tone. He’s believed in ghosts and other supernatural creatures since they were kids, always cautious about ancient burial grounds and past deaths in the house. Junmyeon smiles, because Minseok is the only person in the world who would believe Junmyeon’s story, even if Junmyeon doesn’t truly believe it himself. He knows what he saw, what he heard, but the rational part of him, the one that always made fun of Minseok’s belief in the occult, blames it all on tricks of the light and being sleep-deprived.

“I promise,” Junmyeon says with surprising sincerity, “you’re the first one I’ll come to if things start getting spooky.” They both relax after that, turning the episode of Chopped back on and picking up their now somewhat cold takeout. Minseok doesn’t put his feet up on Junmyeon’s lap like normal, instead turning around so he can kind of snuggle their upper bodies together.

Then Junmyeon shoots up, nearly dumping his rice all over the coffee table, and scrambles to find some scrap paper and a pen. Minseok falls backward onto the couch with a squawk when Junmyeon leans forward to scribble down the characters he remembers from the house. They’re messy and a little crude, but they somewhat resemble the ones in the corners of all the drawings. “What do these mean, Minseok,” he nearly shoves the paper in his best friend’s face. “They were in the front hall and all over the kid’s room.”

Minseok squints at them for a moment and then makes grabby hands for Junmyeon’s pen. He hands it over without a word and watches as Minseok rewrites the characters, albeit with much more skill than Junmyeon. “If it’s a word, I’ve never seen it,” he says after staring at it for what feels like hours. “It could be a name though. I’ve never seen the second character before, but the first is pronounced Zi.”

“Do you think it’s a full name?”

Minseok shrugs, “It could be. I can’t really tell without knowing the other character though. It could still just be a word that I don’t know.” Junmyeon settles back against the couch with a groan. At least he has ‘Zi’ now, which is more than before. “I still can’t believe you bought a haunted house, Junmyeonie.”

“It’s not haunted!”

“Haunted, possessed, same thing.” Junmyeon wants to protest again, but he can still see the two figures in the window in his mind. “I’m not stepping a single foot into that house; I’m not in the business of ghost hunting.”

Junmyeon takes the rare opportunity to poke fun at Minseok, because it’s not every day that the older man gives him such a good opening. “Saving people, hunting things, the family business,” he coos and then ducks to avoid the pillow Minseok swings at his face. He puffs out his cheeks to imitate Minseok, “‘You know the only way to ward of ghosts and demons is with rock salt.’ ‘I can protect you from demons now that I know how to draw a devil’s trap.’”

Minseok nearly tackles him off the couch, smacking him viciously with the pillow, “I was into Supernatural when I was like seventeen, let me live! And my cheeks are not that puffy!”

Junmyeon manages to keep quoting Minseok’s guilty pleasure show, though he has to stop to breathe after Minseok elbows him in the stomach for, “‘Junmyeon, you’re such an assbutt.’” Minseok lets out a little squeak of rage and nearly pummels him with the pillow until Junmyeon begs him to stop. They lay on the couch laughing for a good while, trading good-natured jabs at each other, and Junmyeon finally stops thinking about the house, at least for a little while.

“Minnie,” he asks before they go to bed that night. Well, Minseok goes to bed, Junmyeon goes to couch.

“Hm?”

“Will you help me move-in this weekend?”

“Nope, no way! I am not getting possessed by the demon child living in your house. I don’t care what you try to bribe me with, I’m not doing it,” Minseok shakes his head vigorously, waving his hands in the air like he’s trying to dispel the very idea from existence.

* * *

 

“I can’t believe you bribed me into doing this,” Minseok groans as he hefts a box of Junmyeon’s clothes out of the trunk. Both he and Junmyeon eye the house with trepidation. He’s never seen the house before and Junmyeon hasn’t been back since the first time. Junmyeon stares at the windows like they’re going to jump out and bite him, just waiting for one of the figures to appear. “How did you manage to talk me into helping you move into your demon house, again?”

Junmyeon shrugs, “I baked you brownies.” Minseok had asked before if there was _something_ he put in the brownies to make them taste so good, but they were just really good brownies. He smiles when Minseok curses his own love of chocolate.

Then he takes a deep breath and walks towards the house. He parked in the driveway this time, so he doesn’t even have the stone walkway to leech away some of the anxiety. He’s still drawn to the house, never even came close to changing his mind once in the week he’s been away, but the strange things he saw, or _thought_ he saw, still haunt him. Panic wells up a little with each step closer to the house and he waits for the hissing to start again. He gets right up to the front door and realizes that he hasn’t heard anything.

_Told you it was safe._

Junmyeon lets out a yelp of terror and jumps back, nearly smacking into Minseok. It wasn’t that he had forgotten about the other voice, but he just hadn’t expected it. He knows that Minseok is probably scared out of his mind now, and he wonders if he heard the voice too. For some reason, the idea of anyone else, even his best friend, hearing that voice makes his stomach churn uncomfortably. That voice is always so soft and personal, like it’s meant just for him. He doesn’t want other people to get that same treatment. There’s a deep chuckle in his ear and then a whisper he can’t understand but calms him all the same.

“Did you see a ghost,” Minseok asks and Junmyeon realizes that the older man is somewhat cowering behind him. “If you saw a ghost I think we should just go back to my apartment. I know I make a lot of jokes about it but I really don’t want to get possessed.” Just then, the front door creaks open and Junmyeon can almost hear how loud Minseok’s heart is beating.

“Donna must have left it open after she came by to give the house a final check-up this morning,” Junmyeon says softly, and he’s not sure if he’s trying to calm Minseok or himself. “Come on,” he beckons Minseok to follow him inside, though he nearly freezes over the threshold as the memory of the previous panic attack burns through him. Nothing happens though, just like the voice said, and he steps into his new house feeling much more confident than before.

Minseok lets out a low whistle as they walk towards the bedrooms, and he still won’t leave Junmyeon’s side. It’s like he thinks he’ll be haunted if he touches a single atom of the house. “I can’t believe how nice this place is for being so old. I still wouldn’t live here even if you paid me, but it’s really, really nice.” He’s probably only saying that because Junmyeon didn’t point out the stain on the living room carpet, which he’s now sure exists. There’s something about his words though, about how Minseok would turn down the house if he had been in Junmyeon’s shoes. Junmyeon wants to question his own decisions, but every time he tries his mind fogs up and he can’t concentrate. Maybe he just really likes the house.

The master bedroom is just like Junmyeon remembers it, though this time there’s a bed in the middle of it along with his dresser and nightstands from storage. He has to rearrange the furniture because it’s all pushed together in the middle of the room, but he’s so glad he didn’t have to move it all in. All he has to move in are his clothes and other personal items. No furniture, just boxes of his necessities and his old TV. The house came with one from the sixties that still worked, but Donna said that picture quality was abysmal. He notices his closet door swings open and swears he feels Minseok jump right out of his skin.

“Did you see that?” The other man has his box held up in front of him like shield, as if Junmyeon’s sweaters and ‘mom jeans’ are going to protect him. Junmyeon did see it, of course, but he reacts by dropping his box on the floor and scurrying back out to the car, leaving Minseok to cower from the imaginary ghosts in fear. “Ack! Don’t leave me, you ass!” Both of them laugh as they charge through the house, and Junmyeon staunchly ignores the childish laughter that seems to emanate from right next to him the whole time he’s running.

They somehow manage to get the rest of the boxes in the house without anymore odd occurrences. Well, none that Minseok sees. There’s one moment where Junmyeon is sure that his best friend also sees the little shadow peeking in from the hallway when they’re in the kitchen, because he’s looking right at it, but Minseok doesn’t squeak or run or react at all. He sees things with frightening frequency, enough to almost make him leave the house and never come back. _Almost_. He feels safer inside the house than outside of it, even if he hears little footsteps pitter-pattering up and down the hallway and sees blurry shapes out of the corner of his eye. Despite not seeing or hearing any of what Junmyeon has to endure, Minseok is wound up like a spring. Junmyeon closes a kitchen cabinet a little too hard and the noise has Minseok squeaking in terror.

Minseok’s nervousness makes Junmyeon nervous too. His brain fogs up every time he thinks a bit too hard about why he’s in the house, but it doesn’t stop his mounting anxiety. The rational part of him is finally starting to take hold when that curious, impulsive part starts to get frightened, and it fights whatever spell the house has over him. It tries to throw a cover over the puzzle he’s solving in his mind, disenchant him with the house. He wants to shake off the fear and go back to the calm stupor he had before, but it gets harder the longer he stays. It feels a little like waking up after a really bad nap, the ones that leave you more tired than when you first fell asleep.

“Is the house as scary as you thought it would be, Minnie?” Junmyeon and Minseok are on the kitchen floor, organizing all of Junmyeon’s kitchenware. Minseok has created a scarily unstable stack of pots, all different colors because Junmyeon is cheap and got most of them as hand-me-downs or from thrift shops. He knew when he decided to become a teacher that it wouldn’t pay well, and so he’s saved money anywhere he can in preparation. In fact, he’d never even dreamed of owning a house until he got married to a, hopefully, much more well-off and handsome older man. This house had essentially dropped out into his lap with an abysmally small price tag. A gift from above, or below, according to Minseok’s assertions that it’s haunted.

“It’s even worse, actually. I’d bet my entire hidden stash of chocolate that the word you showed me last night is a name. Probably the name of the demon that’s going to possess you tonight when I go home.” If Minseok’s voice hadn’t trembled the entire time he spoke, Junmyeon might have laughed. The older man is pale though, and his eyes keep shifting over to the entrance to kitchen like he’s waiting for something to appear.

Junmyeon doesn’t like it. The house, aside from whatever had tried to stop him from leaving in the first place, hadn’t done anything outwardly malevolent. He knows that he’s joked to himself a few times about the house putting a spell on him, but with the way Minseok shakes at every sound he can’t help but think it might be true. “I thought demons had Latin or English names,” he tries to pull Minseok’s attention away from where it’s wandered off, “Lucifer, Azazel, Lilith. You know, all the big ones from Supernatural.”

Minseok meets his eyes, and _god_ , Junmyeon forgets how smart his best friend is sometimes. His gaze is intense, eyes swirling with knowledge that Junmyeon can’t even hope to have. He should have spent more time studying with Minseok when their time in college overlapped, and a lot less time partying it up with Minho and Taemin. “Demons aren’t just Christian, Jun,” Minseok quips, “Lilith first originated in Mesopotamian mythology, long before even the first hints of monotheism. Only a few religions call their demons ‘demons,’ but that doesn’t mean that they aren’t comparable.”

Junmyeon’s waking up now. His brain starts to shove all the evidence it has collected under his nose and the blurry shapes at his vision start to clear up. For once in his life, the two sides of his brain start working together.

“A lot of the non-Christian or Jewish demons are called mythological creatures, doesn’t mean that they aren’t demon-like to us. And, Christian demonology isn’t the only way demons or hell could work. We have no way of knowing how demons actually interact with humans, if they do at all, or how they act with each other. There could be whole system for how demons come to Earth, like a coming-of-age thing, and there could be different kinds of demons. So it’s totally plausible for a Chinese demon to exist.” He gets so caught up in his own explanation that he forgets he’s afraid. Minseok bounces a little while he talks, excited and almost bursting with knowledge. He looks the way Junmyeon feels inside, like he’s finally understanding something when the answer’s been in front of him the whole time.

Junmyeon feels an odd pressure at his back, heavy and warm. It reminds him of the times that Minseok got a little too drunk to control his affection and draped himself over his back like a blanket, except this pressure is quite a bit heavier. Still, it’s kind of comfortable when the warmth wraps itself around his front in a hug.

“It just doesn’t make sense for demons to only exist for Christians. If demons exist – which they do considering this house – they’re probably all over the world, living among us. They’ve probably been around for as long as humans, maybe even longer. There could even be new ones popping up today. For all I know, you could be one.” Minseok goes quiet for a moment, the color that had returned to his face draining away. “Actually, I don’t want to think about this anymore.” The pressure against Junmyeon’s back vibrates, a quick back and forth that reminds Junmyeon of laughter.

He tries to absorb all that Minseok’s said, but it slips out of his mind like water. He can’t focus all that much on anything more than the first few sentences, and even that is fuzzy. He knows that Minseok is saying something significant; every atom in his body agrees on that. There’s something in the house, he understands, truly understands. He’s known that there’s something not human in the house, but now he finally gets it. He needs to get out. He should have listened to the hissing when it told him leave in the first place. His head aches for a moment before there’s a warm touch at his temple and the pain melts away. There’s a soft hum in his ear and he tries to jump away, startled, but is held in place but what feel like arms.

The hum transforms into a soft shushing sound when his heart-rate picks up and his mind is fully clear. He thinks of all the things he’s seen, the little shadow popping in and out of his vision, the stain on the carpet. It sounds a little panicked, like it’s trying to calm him down into a stupor again. He doesn’t want to go back though, not when he feels like he’s finally thinking clearly. _I’m sorry, Junmyeon, but you need to calm down._

It’s all gone then, the clarity, the focus. He wants to scream. He had finally thrown away the puzzle in his mind and focused on reality, on the fact that _something is in the house._ Now it’s back and endlessly shifting around. He’s back at square one. His head hurts again, but the warmth around him is gone and nothing soothes the pain away.

“Junmyeon,” Minseok whispers and Junmyeon screams when he opens his eyes - when had he closed them? - and Minseok is right in front of his face. “Junmyeon, you’re shaking.” And he is, his entire body is trembling. He doesn’t feel scared though, just absolutely exhausted. Is it too early for him to go to bed? “Are you okay?” He can hear the undisguised worry in Minseok’s voice. He hadn’t meant to make Minseok worried. What had he been doing that made him so worried? He can’t remember anything after Minseok told him that the house is scarier than he imagined. Junmyeon is so tired, so worn out all the sudden. He wants a hug, but flinches when Minseok reaches for him. He doesn’t want Minseok’s hugs.

“I-I think you should go home, Minseok. I need to go to bed.” Junmyeon feels a little like he’s running on autopilot. His body is moving all on its own, legs stumbling as he tries to stand up. Minseok catches him before he falls. He looks so worried, so scared. Minseok lets Junmyeon lean on him, bracing himself against the counter when Junmyeon sags his full weight on him.

He holds Junmyeon’s face in his hands and gasps, “What’s wrong with you? God, Junmyeon, your eyes are all glassy. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Junmyeon does, a little, not much though. He knows that something is wrong, very wrong, but his head hurts so bad. If he goes to sleep he’ll feel better. He just needs to go to sleep. “Needa…  go… bed.” Why are his words all slurred? He tries to take a step and nearly falls again. He’s never been like this before, not even when he’s blackout drunk. “Min… Minnie?” Junmyeon’s head feels like it’s going to _explode_ if he doesn’t go to sleep soon. There’s something wet on his cheeks. Is he crying?

Minseok’s heart is pounding, he can feel it in his own chest. It might be his own heart though. He feels disconnected from his body, floaty in the worst way and he wants it to stop. Suddenly the world spins and Minseok’s head is above him and Junmyeon can hear Minseok’s heart underneath his ear. He likes it when Minseok carries him sometimes, makes him feel small. It’s good that the older man works out so much, because Junmyeon isn’t even a little worried that Minseok might drop him. “-calling this whole thing off. We’ll find a bigger apartment together. Gotta get you to the hospital.” They’re moving away from the bedroom and Junmyeon knows he’s crying now because his head starts to hurt even worse.

“No, no, no,” he whispers, “please go back, Minnie, _please_.” He hears the deadbolt of the front door click closed. It shouldn’t be that loud, but it echoes through the house. Minseok freezes in place.

“Junmyeon, we need to get you out of here. It’s hurting you.” Minseok sounds terrified, and his voice breaks when Junmyeon cries harder. Junmyeon’s never cried in front of him like this, never cried like this period. “Please, Jun, we need to go.” Junmyeon shakes his head, and god that just makes it hurt worse.

“Go back,” he croaks, “please go back.” Minseok lets out a shuddering sigh and turns around. He takes reluctant steps back towards the bedroom, but they quicken when Junmyeon starts to calm. His head still aches as they step through the threshold, but it’s not pounding anymore. Junmyeon doesn’t remember making the bed, but he must have. It’s set up with his softest sheets and the fluffy blanket he only uses in the winter.

“Jesus Christ,” Minseok mutters, “What the fuck is going on here?” He still puts Junmyeon down on the bed, if for nothing else than to relieve his own muscles. “Junmyeon, can you talk to me? Tell me if you’re okay?” He’s kneeling on the floor next to the bed, brushing Junmyeon’s hair out of his eyes.

Junmyeon nods, “I’m okay. ‘m tired.” It’s hard to keep his eyes open, eyelids fluttering uncontrollably. When he can manage it, he sees Minseok switching between staring at him in concern and glaring at the house with death in his eyes. “I’m okay, Minnie, promise. I just need to sleep. You can go home.”

Minseok scoffs, “No way am I leaving you here by yourself. You would’ve busted your head open on the kitchen floor if I hadn’t been there.” Then his face softens, “What happened to you? You were fine and then…this?”

“I don’t know.” Junmyeon truly doesn’t know why he feel so awful. He just wants it to stop. Minseok sighs and runs his fingers through Junmyeon’s hair. “I’m so tired. My head hurts.” He doesn’t know why, but he wants Minseok to leave for just a minute. Maybe he just needs to be alone for a minute so he can sleep. “Would you go get me some water, please?” His best friend nods, kisses his forehead even though Junmyeon wrinkles up his nose at the feeling, and finally leaves. Junmyeon watches him walk out and realizes that he doesn’t want to be alone at all.

A warm weight settles on the bed beside him, tugs him away from the edge of the bed so that he’s settled safely in the center, but Minseok just left and there’s no one else in the house. _So sorry. So so so sorry, darling._ His headache is soothed when what feel like fingers comb through his hair. _I didn’t mean to use that much power. I’m so sorry. You can sleep now, Junmyeon, it’s okay._ The voice is back, still just as soft as it was the first time. It feels good and he wants more of it. It makes him feel sleepy, or is that the endorphins from the pain being soothed? Either way, he wants to hear more.

A deep laugh like thunder rolls through his body. It’s not enough though, not what he needs. Junmyeon feels wrung out like rag, and he’s so tired it hurts to even try to open his eyes. He feels alone without the soft voice in his ear, and he doesn’t want to be alone. He _can’t_ be alone right now. He knows Minseok is in the kitchen, he can hear the faucet running, but he feels so alone. _I’m here. I’m here._ Then the voice switches to quick, soft Mandarin, and Junmyeon’s falling. He’s not alone, there’s someone there with him and they won’t leave him alone.

This is why he wanted the house, he realizes with the last dregs of consciousness. He doesn’t feel alone here. The Mandarin breaks for a moment - _Never alone, I promise_ \- and then picks back up. Junmyeon falls asleep before he can even register the return to Mandarin, exhaustion finally winning out.

He dreams, or he thinks he’s dreaming, of a tall man - that voice and long body can’t belong to anyone else - curled around his back, mumbling things Junmyeon can’t understand but loves just the same. There’s someone else there too, someone small cuddled up to his chest and responding in that same nonsensical noise, higher pitched and giggly. He murmurs something, and the person in front of him wiggles up underneath his chin and buries their face in his chest. _“Go back to sleep, Mama.”_ And so he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! If you did, I would love it if you were so kind as to leave a kudos and a comment or come talk to me at on [ Twitter. ](https://twitter.com/killmeDO) I also opened up a [ Curious Cat ](https://curiouscat.me/killmeDO) please come ask questions about the story or anything else! (I love talking to you guys and I would love to hear what you think of this story!)


	3. III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm in awe that this thing has passed 100 kudos already holy shit. Thank you to everyone who has been supporting this story and I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint!
> 
>  
> 
> As always, a big thank you too AarushiC_18 for being the best beta in the whole wide world ~

Junmyeon wakes up slow, sleep clinging sticky and sweet to his mind like honey. It feels so good and he wants to hover on that edge of sleep and wakefulness for just a little while longer. It’s Sunday; he can sleep in just a little while longer. He tries to dip back into unconsciousness for just a few more minutes, but it slips just out of reach. Somehow, it makes him even more awake. “Mrrrrrg,” he grumbles into the pillow. This is not how he likes his Sunday mornings to go. At least Minseok hasn’t barged into the living room and tried to pull him along to the gym. The couch might not be comfortable, but it’s a lot more comfortable than a treadmill.

Except he’s not on the couch in Minseok’s apartment. He’s not in Minseok’s apartment at all. Bits and pieces of the previous day pop into his mind, just enough to remind him that he’s sleeping on his own bed in his new house. Junmyeon’s memory only takes him to the afternoon, the evening blurry and fractal and the night completely absent, and he assumes that he and Minseok celebrated the house by getting blackout drunk. Well, that’s what he would have assumed if he had the coinciding headache that always comes with getting blackout drunk. His head is perfectly fine though, not even the slightest bit of an ache. What else could make him lose that much time, if not getting plastered off his ass on tequila?

Junmyeon’s stomach rumbles loud and angry. Now he knows he didn’t drink last night. His stomach doesn’t agree with alcohol in the slightest, and he can barely keep water down after getting the kind of drunk that leads to waking up in a dumpster behind your old high school. If he’s this hungry he couldn’t have touched a single drop.  He has a very vague memory of falling, as if he watched it happen to someone else, but it disappears when he tries to pull it into focus. Maybe he fell and bumped his head? Except if he bumped his head hard enough for it to knock his memories loose, it would have left him with a nasty bump and a headache. His stomach rumbles again and he decides that he’ll deal with the memory loss after he’s eaten something.

Thank god Minseok had the foresight to pack all his snacks and food from the apartment, because Junmyeon would’ve starved without him. Junmyeon appraises his cabinet of questionably healthy snacks and then realizes he has no recollection of Minseok going home last night. He woke up alone in his bedroom, and Minseok is not one to sleep on the couch, so it all points to the older man leaving during the period of time Junmyeon can’t remember. But something nags at him that that isn’t right. He snags a pack of poptarts off the top shelf with some careful balancing on his tip-toes, because past-Junmyeon hated present-Junmyeon and his slight vertical disadvantage, and pokes his head out of the kitchen.

“Minnie,” he calls out to the seemingly empty house. There’s a groaning response from the living room, kind of like a grouchy whine. Junmyeon follows the noise and nearly chokes on his breakfast at Minseok still half-asleep, upside-down with his upper body on the couch and his lower body hanging off the back. He’s blinking blearily at the room, like he’s not entirely sure where he is or how he got there, but his feline eyes clear up when he sees Junmyeon. “Why are you sleeping like that,” Junmyeon asks through the poptart in his mouth. Good manners can wait until he’s no longer starving.

Minseok ignores the question in favor of spinning himself right-side-up, though he winces at the following rush of blood away from his head. He looks horribly exhausted and a little shaky. It doesn’t look like he got much sleep last night, not that his odd position helped him any. He springs off the couch with surprising energy and rushes over to Junmyeon to grab his face and examine him.

Junmyeon tries really hard not to spit crumbs everywhere when he speaks, but knows it’s a hopeless endeavor, “What are you doing with my face?”

“Are you okay?” Minseok says as he drags Junmyeon in for a hug. Once again, Junmyeon’s question goes unanswered. He can’t remember why, but it feels like it’s become a bit of a pattern for him. He nods against Minseok’s chest, returning the hug when he feels his best friend start to shake.

“Are _you_ okay,” he pulls back to study Minseok’s face. He looks tired, really tired, but not like he’s sick or in pain. His chubby cheeks pull up into a smile and he nods and lets out a tired hum. “What happened to you last night?”

Minseok lets out a hollow bark of laughter, “I should be the one asking you that. You don’t remember anything, do you?” Junmyeon blinks. No, no he does not remember a single thing. “We need to get out of this house.” Junmyeon must make a face at that, because Minseok grabs him by the shoulders, _hard_ , and continues, “Junmyeon, whatever is in this house hurt you last night. You obviously don’t remember any of it, but you were shaking and crying and you couldn’t stand up by yourself or really talk. When I tried to carry you out of the house, the front door locked on its own.”

Junmyeon gently extricates himself from Minseok’s hold and takes a few steps back. His friend looks serious, not a hint of mischief in his eyes. If that had really happened, why wouldn’t he remember it? When he voices this thought, Minseok shrugs helplessly. “Whatever is in the house is messing with your mind. After I put you down on the bed, you were fine. You stopped crying, told me you were tired, and asked me to go get you some water. I left and came back and all the blankets you own were tucked around you and you were fast asleep.”

The only part of Minseok’s story that sounds even remotely familiar is all the blankets. He’d had to fight his way out of them this morning when he went to get up. The rest of it sounds like nonsense, a bad fever dream. “Maybe I just had a panic attack. You know how bad those can get.” He doesn’t know why, but it feels a lot like he’s grasping at straws. Minseok gives him an exasperated look. He’s been through more of Junmyeon’s panic attacks than most. He knows what is and is not a panic attack.

“Why did you sleep on the couch like that?” Minseok blinks quickly as Junmyeon changes the subject. He knows that what Minseok’s talking about is much more important that Junmyeon’s curiosity, but it’s just so odd to him that Minseok slept on the couch, especially in that odd position, when he could have just shared Junmyeon’s queen.

“There wasn’t any room on the bed,” Minseok says simply, “I tried to get up there after I saw that you were asleep but I couldn’t get on. I think you must have sprawled out or something and taken up all the space. Sleeping in the kid’s room would have felt wrong so I just passed out on the couch.” But Junmyeon never sprawls out in his sleep, he always curls into a ball on his side. There’s no way he could have taken up that entire mattress by himself.

Minseok’s phone rings and makes them both jump from the shock. The older man frowns at the number on the screen but answers anyway, one finger held up to Junmyeon as a placeholder. “H-hello? Mr. Dunlap? I’m just at a friend’s house on the outskirts of town, why?” Minseok inhales sharply as the tinny voice in his ear shoots up in pitch. “Mongryeong got hit by a car again? He’s barely recovered from last time! I’m going to kick Mr. Harrison’s ass. This is the fourth time in two years he’s hit that dog. Is Mongryeong stable? _Fuck!_ I’ll be right there.”

Minseok hangs up and then stares at Junmyeon with a torn look on his face. “Go take care of the dog, Minnie. His owner is probably hysterical because you’re not there,” Junmyeon gently pushes him towards the door. Junmyeon’s not about to be the reason that poor man, Baekhyun, as Minseok calls him, loses his dog. He can’t have that on his conscience.

“Come with me then,” Minseok rests a hand on his arm, “I’ll drop you off at the apartment and then we can talk about what happened to you last night.” Junmyeon shakes his head. He tells himself it’s because he wants to prove to Minseok that the house isn’t haunted. He won’t admit the real reason. Minseok looks like he has a half a mind to just throw Junmyeon over his shoulder and carry him out of the house, which he could most certainly do because worships the almighty gym, but settles for giving him a scrutinizing onceover and sighs. “Call me if anything happens, alright? _Anything_. I’ll call you when I’m done at the office, okay?”

Junmyeon almost wants to mock him for his mother-henning, but he understands. He’d do the same if he was in Minseok’s shoes. “I promise. Go; Mongryeong needs you much more than I do.” Minseok leaves without a further word, just a cautious and regretful glance back as he runs to his car. Junmyeon watches him go from the front door with an uneasy smile on his face. “At least, I hope I won’t need you more than him.”

The house is silent when he turns back around. There are no figures in the shadow or random objects blinking in and out of existence. Junmyeon feels calm and comfortable. Sunlight streams in from the windows and colors everything serene. The front door closes behind him with a click and an exasperatedly fond sigh as he wanders back down the hall to his bedroom. A cursory look into the kitchen shows everything just they had left it the night before, tower of pots and all. He’s still a little tired, but he lost a lot of time unpacking time last night and can’t afford to lose any more if he wants to be settled in by tomorrow. And so, with a very put-upon sigh, he drops down to the kitchen floor and unpacks and unpacks and unpacks. If, by some small miracle, a few of his boxes unpack themselves while he’s turned around, he tells himself that he had just imagined that they were full in the first place.

When one of the plates he sets on the counter to put away in the cupboard smashes onto the floor with a childish squeak of “ _Oops!”_ , he tries to ignore the way his hands shake and prays for Minseok to call him soon.

Minseok calls late in the evening, just like he said he would. He sounds exhausted but cheerful.  It’s hours past when Junmyeon would have expected him, but he understands once he hears of Mongryeong’s condition. Mongryeong made it through surgery, though he isn’t out of the woods yet. The little Corgi has a broken leg and a few bruised ribs, not to mention a few internal injuries from the last ‘accident’ that were reopened and exacerbated, and Minseok has finally convinced his owner to take legal action against the neighbor.

Junmyeon is curled up in bed, nodding along to whatever Minseok is saying. He’d been napping when Minseok called, swathed in warmth underneath his many blankets. His back is a good deal warmer than his front, but he doesn’t mind all that much. He’s doesn’t think that his bed has ever been so comfortable before. He really shouldn’t be taking a nap so late, but he had worn himself out spending literally the entire day unpacking and giving the kitchen and bathrooms a cursory cleaning. He couldn’t let himself _not_ be busy, not when his mind takes every free moment to mull over Minseok’s recount of the previous night. He has the phone on speaker, still shaking off sleep and too tired to hold the phone up to his ear. “So how did you manage to convince him,” he asks through a yawn.

There’s a clang over the phone and Minseok cursing, “Fuck! Sorry, I was trying to get a bowl down from the top shelf and knocked everything over.” Junmyeon huffs out a laugh. Minseok still uses the top shelves of his cabinets even though he’s just as short, if not shorter, than Junmyeon. There’s a few grunts and more clanging, “There, all back to normal. It actually wasn’t me who convinced him at all; it was his husband. I didn’t even know the guy was married in the first place, so I was a little freaked out when this pissed off Chinese man got in my face after surgery, demanding to know if the dog was still alive or not. I nearly had him thrown out before Baekhyun showed up.”

Junmyeon lets out a yelp as he nearly falls off the bed. It was as if the mattress itself had jumped and nearly pushed him right off the edge. He hovers on the edge of the bed for a moment, one hand braced on the nightstand to keep him up. Minseok is squawking at him through the phone, demanding to know if he’s alright. Junmyeon feels a little shaken up from the sudden jostling, but otherwise he’s fine. He is a little cold though. When he nearly fell off the bed, he must have rolled away from the warm spot because his back feels a good deal colder than before.

“-Junmyeon, I swear to god, you answer me right now or I’m coming over and dragging you out that house by your feet.” Minseok would do it too, the muscled, over-protective pain in the ass.

“I’m fine,” he shouts into the phone, probably louder than entirely necessary, “I just almost rolled off the bed.” A sigh of relief crackles over the speaker. He scoots himself away from the edge of the bed, searching in vain for the warm spot for a moment before giving up and pulling more blankets down on himself. “What happened after Baekhyun showed up?” He’s heard quite a bit about the other Korean man from Minseok over the past two years. If Baekhyun’s anything like the stories, then he’d probably do more harm than good in a situation where Kim ‘The Gym’ Minseok felt threatened.

Minseok groans, “Well, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say Baekhyun was the one hit by a truck and not Mongryeong. He’s usually a mess when the dog gets hurt, but this time he looked _awful_. He got right in between me and his husband and cried into my shoulder for a good five minutes when I told him that Mongryeong was alive but still in danger. I can’t tell you any of the details, you know, patient confidentiality and all, but let’s just say that Baekhyun’s husband was not aware that this wasn’t the first time that Mr. Harrison ran over their dog.”

Junmyeon’s brow furrows at the knowledge. How does someone not know that their dog’s been run over four different times? Minseok makes a confused noise when he asks, “I don’t think he really cares for the dog, Jun. Like, when I took them back to see Mongryeong, the dog nearly pulled out its IVs trying to get to Baekhyun but didn’t even look at Mr. Zhang.”

“I thought Baekhyun’s family name was Byun?” He only knows this because Minseok had called him back when he first started working at the clinic, giggling at the alliteration in Byun Baekhyun. He’d also been plastered off tequila shots and crying about a cat he saw on the street that wouldn’t let him pet it, so there was always the chance that Minseok had had it wrong.

“That’s what I thought too - don’t bring up that night with the tequila shots, I wasn’t so drunk that I fucked up a dude’s name that badly. Turns out that he’s Zhang Baekhyun, but he likes to use his maiden name for things that don’t involve his husband. I don’t think his husband was too pleased about that either. But back to the story, I don’t think Mr. Zhang cares about Mongryeong all the much, but he must _really_ love Baekhyun. He pulled me over while Baekhyun was coddling the dog and asked if I was willing to testify in court about all Mongryeong’s injuries.

“Baekhyun tried to talk him out of pressing charges, but it was pointless. He said, and this is verbatim, ‘ _No mortal causes my Baekhyun this much pain._ ’ It would be kinda hot if he didn’t give off such strong asshole vibes. Also, who the hell calls another person ‘mortal’?” Minseok goes silent for a moment, then there’s a clang and yelp. “ _Fuck!_ I’ll call you back later, I just broke a glass on the floor. _Son of a bitch!_ ”

The line goes dead when Minseok hangs up, still cursing about the slivers of glass on his floor. Junmyeon is left trying to decide whether he should get up and cook his first real meal in his new kitchen, or snuggle into bed with takeout. He _really_ doesn’t want to move out of his nest of blankets, but toaster waffles sound lovely and he is almost certain that he has some in the freezer. He rolls out of bed with a groan and shuffles to the kitchen. He doesn’t find any, but he does find a whole carton of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, so he counts it as a win.

Junmyeon regrets eating half the carton of ice cream, because the sugar is working with his nerves about his first day as a full-fledged teacher. His conversation with Minseok this morning is finally creeping up on him despite his best efforts to suppress it. Minseok is the one person in the world that he trusts whole-heartedly. He’s the only person Junmyeon trusts to clear out his internet history when he dies and vice versa. If he really thinks that Junmyeon isn’t safe in the house, that it hurt him last night, then maybe he _should_ leave.

He can’t deny the fact that something is going on with the house unless he wants to be one of those white suburban parents that always get killed off first in the horror movies. Junmyeon has seen shadows move, seen people and things that he isn’t sure are really there, heard voices, and had objects move on their own. The way that plate had smashed to the ground had nearly sent him running right then and there. He’s at once utterly terrified of the house and completely at ease. It’s a disconcerting mixture, to say the least.

“I’m so stupid,” Junmyeon whispers to himself as he checks the time on his phone, squinting his eyes against the harsh light. He isn’t sure if he’s talking about eating ice cream for desert, and the consequent sugar rush keeping him awake, or if he’s talking about ever stepping foot in this damn house in the first place. It’s probably a little bit of both, or maybe a lot of both. His phone mocks him as it reads eleven-oh-one. He has to be up in eight hours and he’s stuck in a vicious cycle of berating himself for buying the house, berating himself for berating himself because he certainly wasn’t in his right mind when he made that decision, whatever is in the house playing tricks with his mind, and then berating himself for berating himself for berating himself in the first place because he _needs to go to sleep_. He’s never going to get any sleep at this rate. Junmyeon rolls over and screams into his pillow, just a little bit.

Soft footsteps quickly pitter-patter down the hallway. Junmyeon leaps out of bed and reaches for the nearest hard object, which just so happens to be the ugly lamp his mother got him for his birthday. His hands are shaking as he inches closer and closer to the door. The footsteps get louder as the approach before stopping right in front of his door. Junmyeon sidles up to the door, pressing his ear to the wood, and swears to every higher power that he hears crying. It’s not loud or dramatic, just quiet little sobs and sniffles that make tug at his heartstrings. It sounds like a child is sitting outside his door, scared and upset and alone. He can't just leave a child to cry, can he?

He's just about to open the door, fears about the otherworldly proclivities of the house nowhere to be found, when another door slams shut. Junmyeon _screams_. He drops the lamp on the ground and vaults over the bed. “ _Demon House!”_ He admits it, his house is fucking haunted. Minseok was right and Junmyeon’s an idiot who is going to die by way of ghost child. 

He huddles on the other side of his bed, peeking up every few seconds to see if the creature that’s going to tear his soul from his body has appeared yet. Nothing shows up to kill him, no humanoid creature crawling across his ceiling, no spectral child sucking out his soul. He waits and waits and waits for death to come, frozen in terror. Every second feels like hours. After several very long minutes, Junmyeon allows himself to crawl out from around the bed. He needs to get his lamp if he wants to have any chance of defending himself. He wiggles his way across the floor, stopping every few seconds to scan his surroundings for any homicidal paranormal creatures. His phone, which just so happens to have Minseok’s number, the man who promised to come save him from this exact kind of situation, lies forgotten on his nightstand. His vision has tunneled to the lamp on the floor and the creature hiding somewhere in his house.

Junmyeon makes it across the floor without incident, though he’s going to have a bit of rugburn on his knees from the way he squirmed around. He feels much safer when his hand closes around the body of the lamp. “I’m okay,” he whispers to himself, “I’m safe.” The words sounded a lot better when the disembodied voice said them, but he makes do with his own wavering voice.

He keeps repeating the words to himself like a mantra as he stands. There’s no more sound outside his door, and the thought both calms and terrifies him. If he can’t hear it, that must mean it’s not outside his door. If he can’t hear it, that must mean it’s not outside his door, and that means he has no idea where it is. Junmyeon takes a few deep breaths to steady himself. No way is he opening that door to see if it’s out there, he’d rather take his chances with the unknown. A sound like a door creaking open sends chills down his spine, and Junmyeon nearly dies of fright when he thinks that it’s his own bedroom door betraying him. Thankfully, his bedroom door stays tightly closed and the creature wanders off to another area of the house.

He turns away from the door, determined to hide in the blankets until morning comes and then hightail his ass back to Minseok’s apartment. There’s a very large someone sitting on his bed, covered by a blanket. It turns towards him and Junmyeon panics. He throws his lamp at the thing in his bed, but in his terror he slips and slams the thick metal base of the lamp into the side of his head. He’s unconscious before he hits the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! If you did, I would love it if you were so kind as to leave a kudos and a comment or come talk to me at on [ Twitter. ](https://twitter.com/killmeDO) I also opened up a [ Curious Cat ](https://curiouscat.me/killmeDO) please come ask questions about the story or anything else! (I love talking to you guys and I would love to hear what you think of this story!)


	4. IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the support this story has been receiving! I hope this next chapter is just as good! Also, if you notice anything that I should tag, whether it be a trigger warning or something that I probably forgot to tag in the first place, please let me know! 
> 
> As always, thank you AarushiC_18 for being the best beta in the whoooole wiiiiide wooooorld.

Junmyeon wakes up the next morning face down on the floor with a splitting headache. By some miracle, he comes to about an hour before his alarm is supposed to go off. Not that he’s going to turn it off when it does, because he bolts out of the bedroom the second he’s lucid. He remembers the previous night with crystal clarity. The footsteps in the hallway, the door slamming shut, the _person in his bed_. His house is haunted by not just one, but _two_ spirits. And, those spirits are doing their damndest to scare him to death. Minseok was right, Minseok is _always_ right.

Junmyeon sits with his back to the front door; it had locked on its own when he had tried to open it. He’s hyperventilating and he can’t get himself under control. There’s no sweet voice in his ear telling him to calm down, erasing the memories. Junmyeon is pretty sure it’s because Minseok was also right about the rock salt. His best friend had left some in the kitchen as a paranoid precaution when he’d helped Junmyeon move it, and now he’s sitting in a circle of the stuff. He’s seen the shadows move once or twice, but they always shied away before they could touch the salt. If he wasn’t on the verge of a nasty panic attack it would be very satisfying.

He feels safe knowing that the spirits can’t get to him, but he also feels unbearably alone. The longer he sits in the circle, the more he remembers about the night he couldn’t remember. He remembers Minseok’s explanation about demons, how he’d realized that he’s not alone in the house, the headache that only got worse when Minseok had tried to carry him out of the building. He remembers falling asleep that night too. No one, not any of the boyfriends he’s had in the past nor any of his rare one-night stands, had comforted him like that. Whatever it was that shared his bed, it talked him to sleep and held him for the entire night.

A traitorous part of him wonders if it would have done it again if Junmyeon hadn’t seen it - or was it a him? Junmyeon recalls wisps of a dream that tells him one of the spirits is a man - waiting for him last night. ‘Never alone,’ he had promised. Well, Junmyeon feels pretty fucking alone in a house run by ghosts. That traitorous part reminds him that one of the spirits has been with him the entire time. If there’s no voice in his ear, no large, warm presence wrapped around him, then there’s always the shadows jumping around, the childish laughter and footsteps. He truly hasn’t been alone since he stepped foot in the house. Even now, the shadows are trying to reach him. A toy car rolls down the hallway towards him, swerving all over the floor like it’s trying to entice him to play.

“Please,” he calls out, “I want to leave. I don’t want to play with you.” The toy car stops and there’s a sniffle. Junmyeon remembers that it had been a child outside his door last night, sad and alone. He’s an idiot, a giant idiot who cares too much and is probably going to die white people horror movie style, but he can’t let a child feel sad when he has the power to stop it. “I’ll play with you when I come home from work, okay?” Junmyeon knows he should be lying, should be planning to camp out at Minseok’s apartment for the foreseeable future, but he means every word. He’s never been very good at saying ‘no’ to a child in distress.

It’s worth it when the car starts to move again, childish giggles echoing down the hallway as it zooms back to the child’s room. The deadbolt clicks from behind him and Junmyeon is relieved to see that it’s unlocked. “Thank you,” he calls out shakily to the empty house, “I’ll be back later.”

Nine hours later, Junmyeon is standing outside his house, shifting from one foot to the other in hesitation. He doesn’t want to go back in, the dread simmering at the back of his mind all day finally springing to the forefront. The one good thing about it was that any nerves he had about his first day of teaching were obliterated. It had gone unbelievably well, better than he had ever expected, but he had spent the entire day with the fear about returning to the house gnawing at his gut. Junmyeon wishes he had called Minseok and asked to stay with him, but he couldn’t bring himself to go back on his word.

It feels like the house is watching him now, an air of anticipation settling around him. If he concentrates, he can almost see a shadow bobbing in the corner. He feels like his heart should be hammering against his ribcage, hyperventilating and trembling too hard to keep his grasp on the keys in his hand, but he’s physically calm. His mind is a whirlwind of fear, anger, and that damn curiosity he can’t seem to keep a lid on. No matter how hard he tries to shove it down, he has an insatiable urge to know who the spirits are, why they’re in the house. It’s enough to make him shove his key in the lock and twist it, even when the rest of him screams for just a few more minutes of safety.

Junmyeon doesn’t know what he expected to be there when he opened the front door, but the toy car from that morning wasn’t it. He hadn’t been able to really see it earlier because of the distance, but the car is wooden and covered in a sloppy red paint job. The characters he’s seen all over the house are painted on the top of the car in black. It’s obvious that it’s there for him to play with; he’d promised the child that he’d play when he got home, and it seems that neither of them have forgotten. He doesn’t know why, but he feels a little calmer after seeing the car. It’s something that a kid would do to remind a parent to play with them.

There are at least two spirits in the house, and while Junmyeon is still absolutely terrified of whatever had been in his bed the previous night, this one seems to be a child looking for someone to play with. He pushes the image of the thing sitting in his bed as far out of his mind as he can; it’s not far enough, not far enough at all, but it’s something. Then, he swallows his fear and gently kicks the car down the hallway. It glides across the floor, slowed down by the grains of salt left over from Junmyeon’s protective circle.

Soft, quick footsteps come from further into the house, and stop right about where the car had rolled to a stop next to the entrance to the kitchen. Junmyeon thinks he hears a child’s laugh echo through the house. He’s not sure if he’s more unnerved by the laugh or the fact that the laugh doesn’t really unnerve him. Then the car comes rolling back towards him, faster than before. It bumps into his shoe with a quiet thump and Junmyeon sends it back again. The laugh comes once more, louder this time.

Junmyeon smiles despite the fact that he feels like he’s about to jump out of his skin at the slightest provocation. This back-and-forth reminds him of the kids in his class, how they’re entertained by a game this simple because it means they’re playing with another person. “I have to eat dinner,” he says. He feels a little ridiculous, even a little crazy, just talking to an empty house. He’d always thought that the scenes in the horror movies where the protagonist talked to the ghost were stupid, but now he’s living in one and he starts to understand. It would honestly feel more weird for him to not speak to the child, not when he knows that it’s there. “You can play in the kitchen while I cook, if you want.”

There’s total silence as Junmyeon hangs up his coat and toes off his shoes, but the car comes to life as Junmyeon walks by it, looping and swerving around on the floor in front of him. Junmyeon laughs and picks his feet up when it starts making figure-eights between his legs. “I’ll trip if you do that,” he scolds gently. He knows that this, this playfulness between him and the spirit pushing the car around is not normal in any sense of the word. Normal would be Junmyeon getting the hell out of the house and calling an exorcist, or at least attempting to ignore or intimidate the ghosts.

When a soft ‘ _oomph_ ’ coincides with a thump on the floor beside him and the car goes flying into a cabinet, Junmyeon decides he doesn’t like normal very much if it means losing the sweet aura emanating from somewhere near his feet. He knows that he’s not thinking rationally again. He honestly, truly knows, but he also knows that these thoughts are _his_ , that he’s calm right now because he is truly calm, not because some entity is forcing it on him.

The sound of the car on the kitchen linoleum is a nice background noise as he cooks. Every once in a while, the car will bump into the back of his foot and a giggle echoes out when he kicks it back with his heel. “Be careful, I’ve got boiling water in here,” he murmurs as he carries a pot to the sink. He isn’t sure why he says it; it’s not like the ghost can get burned by hot water. Minseok would call it his maternal instinct, and then Junmyeon would punch him for calling him maternal.

His foot bumps into something disturbingly solid and all he can think to say is, “Remember, I can’t see you so I can’t move around you if you’re in my way.” The solid form moves, pushing the car to the other side of the room. “Thank you.” Junmyeon feels a little like he’s going crazy. He bumped into an invisible person and all he did was ask them to be more aware of their own invisibility. Still, the ghost is a kid and Junmyeon can’t imagine not being kind, being calm around a kid.

Suddenly, there’s a warm presence at his back, much too large to be a child, larger than Junmyeon. He freezes and nearly drops the pot of water. His heart-rate spikes and all the fears that had slowly dissolved away while he cooked and listened to the child play come rushing back. He isn’t scared of the child, hasn’t been since this morning, but he is terrified of _this._ This is the person - the _thing_ \- that was in his bed last night, that locked the front door on him this morning, the man in the window when he drove away all those days ago. The part of him that got him into this mess in the first place, impulsive and much too emotional, wonders if he’s also the sweet voice that’s brought him so much comfort, but it lost its decision-making powers after Junmyeon knocked himself out cold with a lamp because of the _ghost in his bed_ , and so Junmyeon doesn’t listen to it for a second.

Junmyeon wants this spirit to leave him alone. The child can stay; he _wants_ the child to stay, but this man needs to leave. He or it or whatever the entity is needs to go and stay gone. The flashbacks of the giant lump under his sheets is enough to send Junmyeon spiraling into the beginnings of a panic attack.

Sadness that’s not his own runs through him like water before what feel like arms come around his waist in a tight hug and then the presence is gone. Junmyeon can still hear the child’s car running all over the floor, but he feels almost unbearably alone. He knows, somehow, that if he asked for it, even just thought about wanting it hard enough, the spirit would come back. It would come back and hold him again and make him feel not so lonely.

 _Never alone, I promise_.

The memory comes unbidden, though he’s not sure where it came from. Junmyeon feels like there are hazy, half-remembered memories lingering around the edges of his consciousness, but he ignores them as hard as he can. He doesn’t want to feel scared anymore, he just wants to live in his house for one fucking day without being scared for his life. He doesn’t know what the memories hold, but he knows that they’re the last things he wants to see.

After dinner, Junmyeon sits down on the floor of the kitchen and plays with the child, rolling the toy car back and forth in silence. The child never speaks, only giggles from time to time or lets out small exclamations when it misses or messes up. He realizes that he doesn’t know a single thing about the child other than the sneaking suspicion that they were the owner of the name he’s found all over the house. Even then, he doesn’t know if they’re a girl or a boy or somewhere in between.

It takes him a long time to gather up the courage to speak, sky steadily growing darker outside the windows. The silent play is fun, calming in a way that only children’s games can be. Despite his terror from the previous night and early morning, most of which could be laid at the child’s feet for running down the hall and slamming doors late at night, Junmyeon finds that he doesn’t want to do anything to upset them. So he waits as the atmosphere grows more and more comfortable, the passing of the car getting sillier as the night goes on.

Finally, he asks, “What’s your name?”

The child’s presence disappears and the car gradually slows to a stop with no one there to grab it. Junmyeon curses to himself and lets his head thunk back onto the wall. He should have waited, he knows that he should have waited. He’s always been too damn curious for his own good. “I’m sorry,” he calls out into the silence. He hopes for a response, the car rolling again or a door slamming shut somewhere in the house, but he gets none. He curses again, louder, and trudges to his bedroom feeling stupid and uncomfortably alone.

In a complete one-eighty from last night, he lays in bed that night straining his ears for any noise, any sign of life. Though he realizes that the last bit is a little ironic considering that he’s listening for a ghost. He tries calling out an apology again, but nothing happens. Junmyeon berates himself mercilessly, cursing his own innate need to know things, his odd affection for the house and the child’s ghost inside, and his stupid impulsivity for buying the house in the first place.

The longer the night wears on, the more alone he feels until it’s an ugly, choking thing in his chest. He’s so lonely and downtrodden that he even contemplates calling for the other spirit, but the rational part of him puts the brakes on that train of thought before it can even leave the station. So quickly it’s mind-boggling, he’s become so used to the way the house always feels alive that it’s uncomfortable for the house to feel like an empty house should. Junmyeon rolls over and tries to bury himself in his pillows and blankets, hoping to ease some of the pressure in his chest.

Then, footsteps come tip-tapping down the hall and the house feels alive again. A door slams shut somewhere in the house and Junmyeon feels his body relax at the noise.

Distantly, Junmyeon wonders if this like the night that he can’t remember, the one where Minseok said he’d been rendered nearly invalid. Somehow, somewhere deep down, he knows it’s not. This is his house, he’s just getting used to it. Junmyeon falls asleep wondering if the child will want to play with him tomorrow. He hears the wheels of a toy car rolling up and down the hall and hopes that the answer is yes.

The next morning, he wakes up to a drawing on the floor outside his bedroom. It’s signed in the lower right-hand corner with the same characters he’s seen on all the drawings hanging up in the child’s room across the hall. He wonders where the kid was finding paper at first, but then finds that his messenger bag for work had been rifled through and every piece of scrap paper in there shoved into a little drawer to the right of the sink.

The drawing is a cat done solely in pen. It looks like the kid had tried to color it in with the pencils in Junmyeon’s bag, but had gotten frustrated at the monochrome and given up halfway through. Junmyeon still hangs it up on the fridge though, making sure to mention aloud just how much he loves it. On the way home from work that night, he stops by the Wal-Mart and buys a metric ton of crayons, markers, and colored pencils. He also buys a bunch of cute forest animal magnets because he had had to tape the drawing up and he wants it to look nice.

The toy car is waiting for him again when he gets home. It and the drawing are the only signs that there are other people living in the house with him. Well, existing in the house with him. When he pushes the thought of the large, formidable being that’s hiding somewhere he can’t see out of his mind, he finds that he kind of likes living with the ghost of very friendly child. A child that won’t - or can’t, a part of his mind supplies - tell him their name.

“Hey,” he calls out, “look what I got for you at the store!” He’s always wanted kids, used to steal the baby dolls away from the girls when he was in preschool because he wanted to take care of them. Junmyeon really likes the feeling of having someone to come home to every day, especially when that someone is so excited for him to return. Still, he writes off his impromptu art supplies trip as being selfish because he likes colorful drawings and ignores the longing he has to take care of this child, to talk to them and feed them and hold them when they start to make that heart-wrenching sniffling sound.

A squeal rings out when Junmyeon starts to pull the art supplies out of the bag, so unearthly high in pitch that it makes him drop the bag and slam his hands over his ears to stop the pain that erupts in his ears. The squeal peters off into a whimper and Junmyeon can feel someone hovering over him from where he’s huddled on the ground. He doesn’t remember falling on the ground though. A warm, light weight wipes at the space underneath his eyes; Junmyeon hadn’t even realized he’d been crying. His ears are still ringing painfully, too painful for Junmyeon to consider moving his hands away just yet.

Still, he croaks out, “I’m okay. I’m okay. You didn’t mean to, I know you didn’t mean to.” He can hear the kid sniffling above his head, their hands patting at his head in the only comfort they can give. It’s odd, how he’s heard the kid laugh, scream, grunt, whimper, and on one memorable occasion, say ‘oops!’ when he dropped one of Junmyeon’s plates and yet he’s never had this problem. He briefly debates asking Minseok how he thinks ghosts communicating vocally with humans works, but decides that will only have his best friend zooming across town at the speed of light to interrogate and/or evacuate him from the house. It’s reckless and a little bit insane, but he’s become quite fond of the house and its little inhabitant, and he doesn’t want to leave them just yet.

Junmyeon can feel the child’s hands on his head patting ineffectually at his cheek and temple, so he jerks in alarm when a larger weight settles on the hand over his ear. The kid’s presence is enveloped in one that feels older, stronger, and darker. Junmyeon’s heart stutters and then picks up. It hadn’t showed even a hint of existing after disappearing when Junmyeon wanted it to the night before, and he isn’t sure now if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. He hears a deep hum, almost like a buzz, and he has a brief flashback to the horrible hissing telling him to leave that first day, but then the pain in his ears diffuses into nothing. When the pain is all gone and he can finally take his hands off his ears without fear of pain, the presence blinks out of existence and just leaves him with the child’s sweet, clumsy attempts at comfort.

He doesn’t know why, but he expects to see someone sitting next to him when he opens his eyes. There isn’t anyone, of course, he hasn’t seen anything since the thing under his blankets, and even that was mild compared to the hallucinations from when Donna showed him the house. Junmyeon blinks at the odd emptiness in his vision. He feels like he should be seeing someone there, and the empty hallway makes him furrow his brow in frustration. Then the toy car appears in front of his face and boops him on the nose.

Junmyeon gives the car a gentle shove back down the hallway and smiles at the affronted noise that echoes off the walls. “See,” he says when he’s able to push himself to his feet, “I’m okay. No harm, no foul. Now we know: you can’t squeal like that when you get excited, okay? I don’t think my ears can handle that again.” He tries to sound light-hearted, but it comes out a little harsher than he wanted. “All the stuff in this bag is yours. Markers, crayons, magnets, everything.” The bag goes flying down the hallway towards the child’s room, toy car left abandoned somewhere near the kitchen.

He doesn’t see the child for the rest of the night, not even when he tries to entice them into coming out by setting up a speaker and blasting Disney songs as he cooks. If he closes his eyes and listens as intently as he can, he can hear a soft voice fading in and out of the music, words just slightly accented. Every great once in a while, a deep voice echoes underneath the child’s. Junmyeon knows that it’s coming from the other presence, the one that he didn’t - _doesn’t -_ want near him, but there’s something about the smooth voice that settles heavy in his gut. It’s comfortable and familiar, like he’s listened to it for hours on end, known it for all his life. He knows that he can remember where it’s from if he wants, the memories are readily available, but he decides to stay ignorant for just a little while longer. He doesn’t want to miss a single syllable.

Junmyeon worries that the loneliness is going to raise its ugly head any second now that he’s sitting by himself with nothing to occupy his mind, but he finds that he can’t be lonely with the two voices drifting through his ears from somewhere else in the house. He hums under his breath, singing his favorite parts of songs. There’s one song, a cheesy one that he loves more than any other, that he decides to sing all the way through. It’s only at the end that he realizes that the other two voices have gone silent, and he apologizes for ruining their fun while his cheeks feel like they’re on fire. It takes nearly an entire song for them to start up again, and Junmyeon resolutely keeps his mouth shut until he turns the music off to go to bed.

When he reaches his bedroom, he finds another piece of paper on the floor. It’s not a drawing this time, but a letter. The handwriting is big and clumsy, letters all over the place as the child obviously tries their hardest to write straight without any lines to help them. Junmyeon’s heart thumps painfully in his chest as he reads it, a smile growing so wide across his face that his cheeks ache with it.

_Thank you ~~Ma~~ Junmyeon ~~four~~ for the stuff. I love you lots._

Junmyeon puts it on his nightstand, settled between his lamp and his alarm clock so it stands up for easy reading. Then he walks back into the hallway and knocks on the child’s door. There’s no response, not that he expects one, but he still calls through the door, “You’re welcome! I’m more than happy to get you anything else you need. Just let me know, okay? Goodnight...you.”

He aches for something to call the kid, a nickname, a pet name, just a _name_. This ghostly child is his responsibility now, and he wants a name and a face to put to the little spirit running around his house, drawing him pictures and playing games with him. And so, when he snuggles underneath his blankets that night, he pulls out his phone to send a hopefully inconspicuous text to Minseok.

**To: Marshmallow Minnie**

_If I wanted to find old obituaries, where would I go to do that? Just out of curiosity, of course._

**From: Marshmallow Minnie**

_Ur researching about the ghosts in the house aren’t you?!?_

**To: Marshmallow Minnie**

_….just answer the question, please_

**From: Marshmallow Minnie**

_I’m coming over tmrw during ur lunch break and ur explaining why ur still in that house when YOU KNOW ITS HAUNTED. But also…the library keeps old newspapers going back like eighty years_

**From: Marshmallow Minnie**

_Quick question….am I still Marshmallow Minnie in ur phone???_

**To: Marshmallow Minnie**

_Goodnight, Minseok :)_

**From: Marshmallow Minnie**

_I hate u_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! If you did, I would love it if you were so kind as to leave a kudos and a comment or come talk to me at on [ Twitter. ](https://twitter.com/killmeDO) I also opened up a [ Curious Cat ](https://curiouscat.me/killmeDO) please come ask questions about the story or anything else! (I love talking to you guys and I would love to hear what you think of this story!)


	5. V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably one of the longest chapters in the entire fic. Also, I hope this starts to clear up some of the questions I've been seeing in the comments and on CC. I will be updating the tags section as I go bc I am a Kinky Bitch. If you notice anything that I missed as a tag, especially if it's triggering, please let me know so I can add it!
> 
> Thank you Aarushi (AarushiC_18) for beta-ing and being an overall joy!

Junmyeon gets more weird looks than he expected. He doesn’t think that he looks that strange, just a young man sitting in a library. He suspects that the stack of old, yellowed newspapers might have something to do with it, and the fact that they’re all opened to the obituaries section certainly doesn’t help. He’s surprised that the library kept the actual newspapers, and not just microfilms. It makes him feel a little more serious to have actual paper under his fingers rather than just sitting in some dark room with a projector, or however microfilms work.

He keeps checking his watch and cursing under his breath at the time. It’s taken him two hours just to get into the sixties, the previous twenty years’ worth of newspapers coming up empty for what he’s searching for. It makes him feel a little sick, how he kind of hopes each new page might show him a Chinese child that passed away much too soon. If Junmyeon had it his way, there wouldn’t be a single dead child in the papers, but he wants a name to put to his new friend. The friend who is probably pacing, or doing a ghost’s version of pacing, as they wait for him to come home.

This is not how he had planned his Friday evening to go. He’d left note on the kitchen table to let the child know he would be home a little late, but he hadn’t expected it to take this long. A weight that he refuses to call guilt settles in his gut when he thinks about how the child must be wondering where he is. Junmyeon has become unsettlingly fond of his tiny companion over the week; his fridge is covered in drawings and one piece of paper where he and the ghost have compiled a list of movies to watch together. That’s what he should be doing right now, watching Disney movie after Disney movie with an invisible ghost child. He’s never looked forward to a weekend more in his life.

He’s also devised a way to ‘kill’ some popcorn to see if the child can eat it. It’s a longshot, but the idea of eating popcorn right in front of his friend without even trying to share some with them makes him frown. He decides to call it a night and head home so that he has enough time to watch at least one movie before passing out. They can spend all of Saturday watching them instead, and Junmyeon can try to figure out other ways to get his ghostly companion something to eat.

“October of nineteen sixty-three,” he mutters as he writes it down on a piece of scrap paper he’d brought to jot down the potential names of the child. His elbow knocks over a pile of newspapers onto the ground and he curses under his breath. Some fly every which way, but enough papers stay together to hit the ground with an obnoxiously loud thump. “Sorry,” he squeaks when the librarian shushes at him. He scrambles to gather all the newspapers back together; thankfully, none of them fell apart so he doesn’t have to go chasing after any stray sports’ sections.

Junmyeon nearly has all the papers back stacked when he notices one underneath the table next to him lying face down. He grabs and slaps it on top of the stack, chronological order the furthest thing from his mind now that all he wants to do is get back home; he’ll be the one reorganizing them next week anyway. Still, he figures that it would be helpful to know roughly which years he messed up, so he glances down at the front page to check the date.

His heart clenches up painfully in his chest. _‘Gruesome Satanic Child Murder Shakes Town to Its Core.’_ Underneath the headline is a picture of his house in black and white. A very large part of him doesn’t want to read on, not when he’ll be reading about the murder of the child he’s going home to. Junmyeon had just assumed that the child died of some disease, like cancer or pneumonia, but the word ‘satanic’ reminds him off the odd hallucinations of symbols on the walls and the stain on the living room carpet. It’s probably a blood stain, he realizes, and tries to swallow down the bile in the back of his throat.

Something spurs him on though, and he ends up having to blink tears out of his eyes before he even finishes the first sentence, ‘ _On February second, Zitao Huang, a kindergartner at the local elementary school, was stabbed to death in his own house.’_

“Zitao.” Well, Minseok had the ‘Zi’ part right. Junmyeon whispers the name a few times to himself and he sounds unbearably choked up to his own ears. There’s a school picture of a little boy with ‘ _Zitao Huang’_ written underneath it. It’s faded and grainy because of its age, but Junmyeon can still make out messy black hair and a smile sweeter and brighter than any Junmyeon’s ever seen.  His mind’s eye brings up a memory of sitting in the hallway with Zitao, rolling a giant blow-up globe Junmyeon had bought for him up and down the hall. Instead of empty air sitting across from him, he can see the little boy in the photograph, smiling that same smile as he pushes the globe as hard as he can.

The phrase ‘ _stabbed to death_ ’ replays in his head over and over and he can’t bring himself to read a single word more. He chokes back a sob. How could someone even bring themselves to hurt a child, let alone stab them to death? He thinks about how helpful Zitao is, how he tries to put away dishes when Junmyeon’s done cleaning them. He thinks about how sweet and playful the little boy can be, always drawing Junmyeon a new picture every morning and bringing out toys for them to play with. A fury claws its way up Junmyeon’s spine as he thinks about how someone raised a hand to his child.

Junmyeon is so preoccupied that he doesn’t notice that he called Zitao his. He just gets up and runs of the library, not caring that he knocks into the table and sends all the other newspapers crashing to the ground. He’s got a child at home, one that’s been through the unimaginable, and he’ll be damned if picking up some dusty papers are more important than Zitao. Junmyeon’s never been a law breaker, but he goes twenty miles over the speed limit on the way, vision tunneling into the image of Zitao’s school picture.

The front door hits the wall with a bang when Junmyeon throws it wide open. His heart physically aches when he sees crayons scattered on the floor not too far down the hall. Junmyeon makes a noise like a sob and lets himself drop to his knees. Zitao had waited for him at the front door, probably drawing a picture to give to him when he got home. Junmyeon shakes and reaches out for the little boy. He’s never actually touched Zitao, not that he’s aware of at least, and he wants – _needs_ – to hold him now. If it’s for Zitao’s comfort or his own, he’s not sure.

Something surprisingly solid snuggles up close to his chest, tiny arms coming around his neck to hold him back. Junmyeon cinches his arms around what he hopes is Zitao and finds that it’s not unlike hugging a real, living person. He finds some comfort there, but the pain doesn’t ebb completely. It’s not fair that Zitao, sweet, excitable Zitao, is stuck in this kind of half-life. He’s been trapped in this house, frozen in time for decades, over half a century, with nothing but the other spirit in the house as company. Junmyeon can feel the other presence rumbling at the edge of his awareness, watching over them from some corner, and takes a small bit of comfort that Zitao wasn’t alone.

He wonders if Donna ever came to play with Zitao, if anyone ever paid attention to him for all those years. _Donna._ Junmyeon attempts to fight down a rush of irritation at the thought of his previously unremarkable realtor. She’s a local, lived in the town her whole life. So why the hell had she not mentioned the house’s history – like how a goddamn child was _murdered_ – back when she first showed him the damn thing? He’s pretty sure there’s a law that makes it so realtors are _legally required_ to tell potential buyers about any deaths that have occurred in the house.

Instead, Donna had left him in the dark and let him move into a haunted house completely unaware. There’s a traitorous remark somewhere in his head about how he probably wouldn’t have bought the house if she’d told him, and then he wouldn’t have Zitao. He mulls it over for half a second, then stuffs it into a box and kicks that box off a cliff because he doesn’t like how it tamps down on his indignant fury.

“Zitao.” Time itself seems to freeze when Junmyeon breathes out the name. Zitao stops dead in his tracks, tension coming off the child in waves. The other spirit comes closer until it hovers just out of arm’s reach. For a few seconds, Junmyeon wonders if he’s made a grave mistake by searching out Zitao’s name, but then the ghostly child starts to wiggle and squirm in his arms like a puppy. It’s quiet, and oddly distant, but he can hear giggling right next to his ear. Junmyeon repeats the name and Zitao goes wild all over again. He wonders how long it’s been since the kid has heard his own name.

Zitao wiggles out of Junmyeon’s arms and runs down the hallway, footsteps thumping quietly against the floor. There’s a loud sound somewhere between a thud and smack and it sounds like Zitao ran right into a door. Then there’s another smack, and another, and Junmyeon realizes that Zitao is trying to show him something. He pushes himself off the floor and follows the sound to Zitao’s bedroom door. Staring him in the face, unsurprisingly, are the characters signed on the corner of every drawing that Junmyeon now knows make up Zitao’s name. He’s going to have to repaint those onto the door soon, maybe bring home some of those paint swatch things from Home Depot and let Zitao pick out his favorite color.

“It’s your name, isn’t it? Zi-tao,” he murmurs as he traces the characters. Zitao attaches himself to his leg and nods against his thigh. “You have a very nice name, Zitao.” Junmyeon hears a soft sniffle and panics. Why is he crying? What’s made him so upset? Junmyeon tries to comfort him, resting one hand on his head – which looks very strange, because his hand is just resting on thin air – but that only makes Zitao burrow his head into Junmyeon’s thigh and start to cry in earnest.

 _You’re the first person to say his name in fifty years. It’s a lot for a child his age to take in._ A shiver runs down Junmyeon’s spine at the voice in his ear. It’s the first time he’s heard it in a week, long enough for him to forget what it sounded like. He can feel the other presence at his back, a larger hand sliding over his to rest at the back of Zitao’s head. _He’ll be okay, just give him some time._

Junmyeon doesn’t particularly trust this spirit, large and masculine and horribly intimidating, but the voice reverberating in his ear is soft and warm and there’s something undeniably gentle about the hand smoothing over his own. Junmyeon doesn’t scream, doesn’t feel raw terror or prickling uneasiness under his skin like before. He feels relaxed, a little nervous because Zitao is still crying against his leg, but relaxed all the same.

He lowers himself to the floor and feels the man follow him, neither moving their hands from where they’re trying to comfort Zitao. Junmyeon flails a bit when he reaches for the child but pulls Zitao close when he manages to hook an arm around him. “It’s okay, Zitao,” he murmurs through Zitao’s hiccupping little sobs, “I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

Junmyeon’s not sure when it happens, though it has to be sometime after Zitao calms down and before they snuggle up to watch one of their movies, but he can see Zitao. He doesn’t mean that he can see the outline of him underneath the blankets, because he’s been able to see that all week. No, one minute, he’s looking at thin air and the next there’s a black-haired little boy rolled up in one of his fluffiest blankets like a little burrito. Zitao looks just like he did in that picture, albeit he’s in color and a lot less grainy.

He has no idea what to make of the new development. For a moment, he thinks that maybe Zitao’s come back to life spontaneously, like maybe saying the child’s name broke a spell and brought him back. But then Junmyeon realizes that he’s been staring at Zitao for a good five minutes and hasn’t seen the child breathe and that idea flies out the window. He’s not sure if Zitao knows that Junmyeon can see him. Maybe it’s his choice to be seen or not, and now that Junmyeon knows his name he feels comfortable enough to let the him see. There’s always the option that Junmyeon’s gone absolutely insane.

Either way, Junmyeon allows himself to enjoy being able to see how Zitao smiles big and happy when Junmyeon settles down on the bed and lets him snuggle in close. They watch movie after movie until Junmyeon falls asleep to Moana discovering who she truly is with the help of her grandmother’s ghost. He tugs his little ghost a little closer and wonders why the universe feels the need to bash him over the head with the symbolism.

The next morning, Junmyeon wakes up alone but he can hear Zitao singing from somewhere in the house. He also hears buzzing and rolls over to see his phone vibrating on the nightstand. He groans and snatches it up, squinting against the obnoxiously bright light of the screen to see just who’s calling him at eight A.M. on a Saturday morning. _Donna Realtor_ lights up on the phone screen and his breath catches in his throat. He’d planned to call her once he’s had a little bit of time to calm down and wring out exactly why she had failed to tell him about his house’s less than stellar history, but he’s not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Hello?” His voice is raspy and hoarse with sleep when he answers and it makes him sound harsher than he’d wanted it to. He clears his throat and tries again, “Hello? Donna?” Soft footsteps come rabbit quick down the hallway and then Zitao is in the doorway. He smiles wide and hops in place when he sees that Junmyeon is awake, and Junmyeon pats for the little boy to climb up next to him on the bed.

Zitao freezes for a moment and move his mouth in silence. When Junmyeon shrugs helplessly, Zitao points at his own eyes, then at Junmyeon, and then back to himself as he tries to talk again. Junmyeon’s still clueless, so Zitao stomps his foot and makes a face like he’s yelling. _He’s asking if you can see him._ The man’s spirit is there and gone in the time it takes for him to rumble out the sentence in Junmyeon’s ear. Junmyeon’s not sure if the shiver running down his spine is out of fear or something else, nor does he want to find out, so he focuses on nodding at Zitao and pointing from his eyes to the child. Zitao jumps up and down like a little monkey and then lunges for Junmyeon.

It’s then that he notices that Zitao is wearing the same clothes as the night before, red plaid pajamas that look to be a size and half too big. Zitao has to pull his pants up before he hops onto the bed and his sleeves completely cover his hands when they hang down by his sides. The little boy snuggles up close to Junmyeon’s side, sliding underneath the blankets with a silly grin.

He’s so preoccupied with Zitao that he doesn’t realize he’s only half-listening to Donna, who’s been talking non-stop over the phone. “-so would be it alright if I came by later today to make sure that the cleaning crew came by and took care of those awful weeds up front? I know how busy you young men can be, so I didn’t want to drop by without checking in first.” Junmyeon wonders if the universe is conspiring to help him.

“That’s perfectly fine. I wasn’t planning on doing much today either.” Minseok is coming over for dinner to make sure that Junmyeon hasn’t been brainwashed by the ghosts. He wonders idly what Minseok will do when Zitao inevitably wants to play with him. The rest of the day has been set aside for relaxing, grading, maybe making a lesson plan for next month, and then watching the rest of the movies with Zitao. “What time would you be coming by?”

“I can be there in an hour if that’s alright with you.” Junmyeon just barely manages to hold back a groan. He’d hoped for a little more time to lounge in bed, maybe watch the last bit of _Moana_ that he missed. More than that though, he wants some answers. He knows that he could have probably answered them on his own if he’d just read the article back in the library, but he thinks that Donna might know a little more than a fifty-year-old piece of paper.

“Yes, that’s fine. I’m actually just about to hop in the shower, so I’ll see you then.” He’s lying through his teeth. Zitao stole the TV remote while he pretended to be sweet and snuggly and took off down the hall with it. Junmyeon doesn’t wait for Donna to respond before he hangs up and launches off the bed. “Ohoho, you get back here right now, you little monkey!”

Donna comes early and Junmyeon sees her peeking through the kitchen window when he’s sliding down the hallway in his socks. Zitao is sitting on the kitchen floor and he convulses in silent laughter every time Junmyeon slides past with a silly face. On this particular slide, he’s squishing his cheeks together and sticking his tongue out and he realizes that Donna probably thinks he’s fucking crazy. At this point, he might as well be.

He scrambles to let her inside when she knocks on the front door, face burning at her inquisitive look. “Mr. Kim,” she says, “I’m not one to judge, but I do have to ask just why you’re making faces at the kitchen floor.” Junmyeon’s mind goes blank for single excuse that’s even slightly believable. He can feel Zitao holding onto the leg of his pants and he just barely resists the urge to run a hand through his hair.

Unfortunately, his mouth overrides his brain and blurts out, “Zitao and I were playing a game.” He slaps a hand over his mouth the second he realizes what he’s just said and wonders if she’s too far into the house for him to slam the door on her. There’s a tug on his pajama pants. Junmyeon looks down to see Zitao looking at Donna with wide eyes.

 By the time he looks back up, Donna’s standing right in front of him. He can see some kind of desperation on her face. Junmyeon knows that she knows who Zitao is, and he wonders why she isn’t backing away or calling the cops to come collect the crazy man who says he plays with a ghost child. “Is-is he here right now,” Donna whispers. Her eyes are trained on the spot next to Junmyeon, where Junmyeon had looked down.

God, she knows that Zitao’s here. She’s known that he’s been here the whole time. Junmyeon feels a hot flash of anger. Donna knew about Zitao and she never visited? She left him alone in this house for fifty years? He remembers her words from back when she’d shown him the house, how she hadn’t been in the house in ten years. How could she leave him here with only the other spirit as company?

He hears her repeat herself, sounding more desperate than the first time. He doesn’t answer her. Why does she deserve to know about Zitao when she left him alone? “You have some explaining to do,” Junmyeon drops his voice low and pins her with the nastiest stare he can manage. He’s not a confrontational person, much more prone to flight than fight, but he’ll do just about anything for a child. “Zitao,” he murmurs in a much softer voice, “Can you go draw me a picture while I talk to the nice lady?” Zitao looks up at him and scrunches up his nose in defiance.

Donna is still staring at where she thinks Zitao is standing when she speaks, “Let him stay, please. He knows this story better than I do.” Junmyeon raises an eyebrow but gestures for Donna to follow him into the living room all the same. They settle down on the couch, Donna in the middle, Junmyeon next to her, and Zitao in Junmyeon’s lap. “How did you find out about Zitao?”

Junmyeon huffs out a laugh through his nose and Zitao looks a little sheepish as Junmyeon explains all the scares the little boy had put him through. “After he convinced me to play with him, I realized I needed to find out more about him. I found the article of his- uh…of why he’s stuck here in the library last night.” Donna and Zitao flinch at that, and the little boy tucks himself close to Junmyeon’s chest.

“Did you read the article,” Donna asks. When Junmyeon shakes his head, she sighs and give him an unendingly weary smile, “Then I really do I have some things to explain.” Junmyeon tilts his head in confusion and opens his mouth to ask her what she means, but Donna holds up a finger to stop him.

“This house has been empty since nineteen sixty-six, when it belonged to the Huang family, JiaJia and Zitao.” Her voice cracks and Junmyeon sees an unimaginable pain flit across her face. “I was Zitao’s babysitter, and he was one of my best friends.” Junmyeon hadn’t expected that. He’d expected a detached re-telling of whatever is in the article that he hadn’t been able to make himself read, not an old woman reliving the pain of losing a someone so dear to her. He looks down to see Zitao staring at Donna in wonder, mouthing her name over and over.

Junmyeon hadn’t realized how old Donna is until he turns to watch her speak. She looked somewhat youthful all the times he’s seen her before, but now she looks as though she’s carrying a terrible weight on her shoulders and it’s taken its wrath out on her spirit. He knew she was in her sixties, but it hadn’t shown on her face until now. Donna takes a deep, deep breath and speaks, and Junmyeon feels like he’s falling back in time with each word.

“I met Zitao and his mother JiaJia a few days after I turned thirteen. He and I actually had the same birthday, May second. I grew up in the subdivision over, our backyards connected, and met him when I was walking home from school one day. He had just turned five and the second he saw my backpack he ran up to me asking about school. His mom was so embarrassed, yelling at him in Mandarin when he made me sit down so he could look at my backpack. He was so adorable that I wasn’t even bothered. I let Zitao look at all my pencils and stuff while his mom told me about how they had just moved into the only house in the new subdivision and were looking for kids for Zitao to play with.

“It was the sixties, back when people felt they could trust the world around them. I told her that Zitao was welcome to come over to my house anytime and play, that I would love to spend time with him. JiaJia jumped at the chance, and I saw Zitao almost every day for the next nine months. I babysat all the time because his mom worked overnight shifts at the hospital as a nurse. It was a really nice job too, because he was such a sweet and easy-going kid, if a little high-strung. He actually taught me a little Mandarin.” Donna wipes a few tears from her eyes and Junmyeon sees Zitao’s face twist in discomfort at her pain.

“The first few months I watched him at his house, but then school started, and on his first day of kindergarten he started asking if he could stay at my house. JiaJia wasn’t too happy, but she allowed it because I said it was okay. Zitao never wanted to tell me why he didn’t want to stay at his house anymore, always just said he liked how kind my house was. I thought it was weird that he said kind instead of nice and tried to teach him the difference between the words, but he was adamant that he meant to say ‘kind.’ His mom started acting weird too a little after Zitao started staying at my house when I babysat him. At first, she would stay and talk about work and ask what Zitao did that day and if there were any problems, but around November she would just pick Zitao up and leave.

“Zitao started to throw fits about going home then. It seemed like he was absolutely terrified of the house. I thought that maybe it was scary for him to be the only house on the street because he was so little, so I told him that there were going to be other houses built and he would have lots of neighbors to play with. Then I realized he was probably afraid of monsters in his closet or something, you know? So, I told him that any noises in the house were probably made by the wind or the house settling down to sleep at night. That’s what my parents told me when I was his age. I thought that it would get better as he got older and became more comfortable in his house, but it only got worse.” Donna begins to cry in earnest and Zitao reaches up to try and comfort her, but Junmyeon holds him back with an arm around his middle. He doesn’t want to let Zitao out of his grasp right now, especially not to go to someone he doesn’t trust.

“I’ll never forget what he told me one night in January,” she says, and her voice is bitter and thick with tears, “Zitao had stayed the night at my house again, this time for a sleepover, so his mom wouldn’t come get him until the morning. He woke me up in the middle of the night when he crawled into my bed and whispered, ‘I’m not scared of the house, Donna, I’m scared of Mama. She talks to the walls at night, and sometimes the walls talk back.’ He started crying then, and he didn’t stop for almost an hour. When he finally calmed down, I tried to make him go back to sleep.

“His voice was so quiet I almost didn’t hear him, but he said, ‘Mama tried to hurt me last night. She had the big knife from the kitchen I’m not allowed to touch and she chased me to my room. She kept screaming that she was going to hurt me, but when I got to my room, the door swung open the wrong way and hit her real hard and then locked her out.’ My blood ran cold when told me that; I could only stare at him. ‘The walls told me not to come home anymore. I don’t wanna go home, Donna.’

“I don’t know why I didn’t do anything,” she whispered, “I didn’t go to the police or confront JiaJia because I was too scared. I knew Zitao was telling the truth. He had a big imagination but he always told me when he was pretending, he never lied. I let JiaJia take him home in the morning even when he begged me not to. If I had just told someone, if I had done something, then…then…” Donna breaks down into sobs. Junmyeon feels sick to his stomach and holds Zitao close. There’s no comforting heartbeat or warmth, but having the solid weight in his arms and seeing Zitao makes him feel a bit better. For right now, he can be sure that Zitao is safe and comfortable.

“Two weeks later, on February second, I woke up to the sound of screaming. Through my window, I could see that all the doors and windows of Zitao’s house were open. I screamed for my parents to call nine-one-one and ran to Zitao’s house as fast as I could. When I ran in through the backdoor, I could see that JiaJia had burned these symbols all over the house, and I could hear Zitao screaming from the living room. He was crying, calling out for help, for me. He begged his mom to stop, and then he screamed again and I was in the living room before I could even think.

“The room was covered in candles and even more of those symbols. There was a big pentagram in the middle of the room, right there,” Donna says as she points to the stain on the carpet, “Zitao was tied down in the middle, his mom above with the big kitchen knife, and he was bleeding so much. She went to stab him and I tackled her to the ground. There was a circle of salt around the pentagram, and I think I broke it when we hit the ground. I don’t really know what happened next, because suddenly the ropes around Zitao were holding his mother down and all the candles blew out. Zitao had lost so much blood, I knew he wasn’t going to make it, but he was so happy when he saw me. He tried to crawl over to me and he just kept saying, ‘Donna, you saved me! You’re my hero!’ I tried to stop the bleeding, but it was too late. I held him until the police showed up, but he was gone before they arrived. He never stopped smiling though, not once.”

Donna takes a deep breath and tries to calm herself. She gives Junmyeon an odd look that he can’t decipher as she finishes her story. Her voice is raw from the tears and she smiles ruefully when she speaks, “He started mumbling something close to the end about his mother, something about how he was going to get a new one. I remember thinking it was just rambling, a side effect from the blood loss. It looks like he found one, didn’t he?” When he doesn’t reply, she breaks down again. He’s equal parts pleased and discomfited by the mother comment, and he’s not sure which part unsettles him more.

Junmyeon’s not sure how long they sit there, minutes ticking by. Donna sobs quietly to herself and Junmyeon can’t find the wherewithal to do more than stare at the ground in shock. He can feel that Zitao has wrapped himself around him to the best of his small-limbed ability, but even that isn’t enough comfort because it’s a reminder of what the little boy went through. Zitao doesn’t seem all that phased by hearing his own death be retold, but fifty years is a long time when it comes to coping with trauma.

Junmyeon wonders what Zitao would have looked like if he’d grown up, what he would’ve become. Even with all the baby fat on his face, Junmyeon can see the signs of what would have been a thin, angular face in adulthood. When he finally moves his gaze to Zitao, the boy smiles at the attention and shoves his face into his neck. How could someone hurt such a sweet and loving child? Junmyeon’s only been with him for a week and he was already wrapped around his ghostly little finger.

How could Donna knowingly – and he knows for a fact that Donna knew Zitao was here – leave his child alone in this damn house after being murdered? He’s not sure when he started to consciously refer to Zitao as his child, probably sometime between Zitao’s first drawing for him and Donna’s mother comment. What he is sure about is that he understands why people are so terrified of mother bears. Even though he can see that Zitao’s murder hurt Donna, he can’t find it in himself to feel any real sympathy. “How long have you known about him?”

“Since a week after his death,” Donna replies when she finally quiets down, “The police brought me back through the house to help them understand my statement about what happened. I asked if I could go to his room and say goodbye, but when I got there I could tell that he wasn’t gone. Zitao liked…er…likes to draw, though I’m sure you already know that. I walked into his room to find a brand new stack of drawings and all his toys scattered around the room and then I walked right back out. I didn’t go back for another forty years after that. I was just…too scared to face him, I guess. I still am.”

Zitao hugging him tightly is the only thing that keeps Junmyeon from lunging across the couch and tearing the old woman a new one, literally and figuratively. And even that might not be enough if Zitao doesn’t stop staring at Donna in utter betrayal. Junmyeon’s not sure if ghosts cry like the living, or if they even can, but Zitao looks like he’s awfully close, bottom lip trembling uncontrollably as he realizes that Donna had abandoned him. It’s all Junmyeon can do to shush him and hold him just a little bit tighter.

“Why did you become a realtor for the house then, if you’re so scared of it? Why the hell did you sell me the house when you knew it was haunted,” he’s proud of how calm he sounds, only the slightest edge of anger sharpening his words. He feels Zitao’s mouth moving, probably trying to call out for comfort, and he wishes, not for the first time, that he could understand him.

Donna looks down at her hands sheepishly and fidgets with the hem of her blouse. He would be nervous too if he had to explain to a child he’d abandoned why he came back after fifty years.

 Before she can answer, the other presence appears in the entryway to the room. It’s obvious by the way she stiffens that she can feel him too. The man is still invisible to Junmyeon, the space that the presence should be occupying appearing as blank space. Zitao clambers off his lap, still looking like he’s on the verge of tears, and runs to the other spirit. It’s weird, watching Zitao suddenly rise and then hover in mid-air. He wonders how he must have looked to Donna, holding what was probably nothing to her in his lap like a child. Both Zitao and the man blink out of existence and Junmyeon realizes that Zitao had probably been calling for the other spirit; it wouldn’t be the first time he’s had the man come to his assistance.

“Is he gone,” Donna asks after the pair disappear. Junmyeon makes a vaguely affirmative noise. His arms feel uncomfortably empty without Zitao to hold. “I was a housewife up until twelve years ago, but then I heard that the local realtor company was going to try to sell this house. I couldn’t let it happen, not when there was the chance that what happened to Zitao and JiaJia could happen again. So, I became a realtor and bothered my boss until he let me be the realtor for this house.”

Junmyeon can see it too, how she had most likely passive aggressively wormed her way to the house with baked goods and vague comments about how she knew the house better than anyone else. He’s still confused though, “Why did you sell it to me? You obviously didn’t want to sell and yet you sang its praises.”

Donna lets out a put-upon sigh, “My boss made me. After ten years of me putting up signs facing away from the road and asking for wildly high down payments, my boss put that ad you found in the paper and told me to sell the house. The story of the ‘satanic child murder house’ is pretty famous around these parts, so I figured that you would turn tail and run the second you realized what happened here. You shocked me so bad that I forgot to try and talk the house down.” She smiles sardonically and places her head in her hands.

Junmyeon makes a little noise of understanding. He’s still angry with her for leaving Zitao alone; he’s not sure how long it will take until he stops being angry because honestly, how could she leave a five-year-old, dead or alive, alone for so long? He can understand why she didn’t want to sell the house though, she was trying to protect another family from the Huang’s ending. Junmyeon wonders exactly what happened to JiaJia to make her kill her own son. He runs through Donna’s story again in his head, looking for any kind of clue. She’d said that Zitao had mentioned the walls, the house itself, protecting him, probably a child’s rationalization for an invisible man.

Could the other spirit have driven her to do it? Logically, all the signs point to the man. He’s an unidentified spirit that seems to be able to control the house in a way Zitao can’t. Junmyeon remembers the front door locking on its own the morning after he’d knocked himself unconscious with a lamp and Minseok’s insistence that it had happened during the night Junmyeon still can’t remember. Demonic possession would explain the symbols Donna had said were burned all over the walls too.

It’s a logical explanation, but it doesn’t make any sense to Junmyeon. Junmyeon knows, when he’s not vehemently denying it, that the voice, the deep, rumbling one that makes him feel safe, belongs to the man. He doesn’t trust the spirit, but he also doesn’t think that he’s capable of hurting anyone. The man is like another layer of protection between Junmyeon and anything that could harm him when he’s in the house. He’d dropped a knife earlier that morning while putting away the dishes, and the blade had stopped inches above his foot. Junmyeon’s a lot of things, but he isn’t an idiot; Zitao had been in the other room hiding the remote, unable to know that Junmyeon had dropped the knife let alone catch it.

“What,” he starts, then stops to clear his throat, “what happened to JiaJia?” He doesn’t know why, but he can’t bring himself to call the woman ‘Zitao’s mother.’ It just doesn’t feel right to him, like it’s not her title to have.

Donna blinks in surprise, “She was found not guilty by reason of insanity at the trial. They had made some inane disorder to label her with after she’d made a giant scene in the courtroom, screaming about how some evil demon had taken her baby away. I was the only person that never believed her. I tried to tell people that there was something about her eyes when it happened that made it hard for me to believe her; her eyes were just so _aware._ They let her out a few years ago because ‘she’s too old to be of any danger to anyone.’” Donna scoffs quietly to herself and rolls her eyes. Junmyeon’s not sure why, he’s never met the woman before, but he believes Donna wholeheartedly. Then she rouses herself off the couch and turns to face Junmyeon with one hand out for a handshake, like a peace offering.

She smiles when he tilts his head in confusion and extends her hand out farther. “He probably won’t come back out until I’m gone, will he,” she asks and inclines her head down the hallway. She must be referring to Zitao, and she’s most likely right. “To be truthful, I planned to tell you the house’s history today even if you and… _him_ hadn’t surprised me at the door. I was hoping I could convince you to leave, maybe offer you your deposit back, because this house is dangerous. Now, I don’t think I could bear to take you away from him. You’ll take care of him, won’t you?”

He gives her a little private smile, because taking care of ghost sounds kind of silly, but he knows what she means. Junmyeon’s also a little surprised that Donna can’t seem to bring herself to say Zitao’s name. He’s never had to deal with that kind of trauma though, so he just gives her the most earnest smile he can manage, “Yes. Zitao will always be safe with me.” He shouldn’t make that promise, not when he doesn’t have the slightest clue as to how to keep him safe in the first place, but he doesn’t plan on breaking that promise either.

Donna walks out the front door with just one last mournful look back into the house. Junmyeon can only imagine all the ghosts she must see here, even if they aren’t the real ghost that has reattached itself to his leg. Zitao waves goodbye to Donna as she slowly picks her way down the stepping stone path to her car, looking so horribly sad when he realizes that the Donna he knows is long gone, replaced by a woman he doesn’t recognize. Junmyeon thinks that maybe he should invite her back over one day, if for nothing else than to give Zitao some much needed closure.

As he closes the front door, Junmyeon sees a very old woman creeping down the sidewalk hunched over a walker. He can’t see her very well from the distance, but he swears that she’s staring right at him.

* * *

 

Donna’s visit seems to trigger something in Zitao. He was always affectionate and playful, but after Donna leaves, he attaches himself to Junmyeon like a little starfish and refuses to be parted from him. Trying to leave in the mornings becomes a battle because Zitao clings to his pant leg and silently begs for him not to go; it takes heaps upon heaps of promises of playtime and attention for Junmyeon to get out the door, and by then he’s usually bordering on being late for work. When he comes home, Zitao wants to sit in Junmyeon’s lap while he’s creating lesson plans or grading the few worksheets he gives his kindergartners and the little boy takes up any spare second the man has for playtime. Zitao even has to sleep curled up next to him, though he’s pretty sure that Zitao doesn’t actually sleep, just lays there with his eyes closed and soaks up the closeness.

Junmyeon understands, he really does. Zitao finally has someone who will play with him and give him the attention he craves, it makes sense for him to take advantage of that to the utmost degree. It doesn’t make it any less exhausting for Junmyeon, who doesn’t have the advantage of endless energy like Zitao. If Zitao was alive and went to school and ate and slept and had the same general limitations as him, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Hell, it wouldn’t be so bad if they could just _talk_ to each other about the whole situation. As is though, Junmyeon’s being killed with kindness and stuck communicating with his child through very vague games of charades.

It takes four and a half days of Zitao’s nonstop playtime to break him. He curls up on his bed Thursday evening, exhausted, hungry, and not having gotten a single bit of work done since Monday. It’s a testament to how tired he is that he doesn’t startle in the slightest when the man’s presence appears in the room. Junmyeon can feel him standing somewhere in the room, but can’t bring himself to do anything more than make a whiny grunt and wave a hand in the spirit’s general direction.

There’s a crashing sound from somewhere else and Junmyeon wonders how much time he has before Zitao realizes that he’s not playing hide ‘n’ seek anymore. Not much, based on the footsteps thumping towards his room. He buries his face in his pillow and muffles his scream of frustration against the fabric.

_Would you like me to distract him?_

God, _yes he would_ , he would like that so very much. If this man could keep Zitao entertained for just one night, Junmyeon would fucking kiss him, weird corporeal ghost mouth and all. He’s so tired that he doesn’t realize his mouth is moving until the end of the sentence. There’s a sound like someone choking on their own spit, and then heavy footsteps thunder across his room to the door. Junmyeon rolls over and cracks an eye open to see Zitao being hefted into the air, a cross look on his face as he tries to squirm out of the hold and reach for him.

God bless the all-powerful ghost-demon-man-thing that lives in his house. That’s not a sentence Junmyeon ever thought he would think. Maybe, if he’s really lucky, the man might start sharing entertaining Zitao duties with him. He loves playing with Zitao, but he also enjoys his sanity and Zitao seems determined to strip every last bit of it out of him by the end of the week.

The house is dead silent and Junmyeon can’t feel either of the spirits anymore. Junmyeon doesn’t even think about being alone now, not when he knows that all he has to do is call and Zitao will come scrambling to his side for attention and playtime. The silence actually feels good. It gives him a little space to think about the weird things that have happened to him over the week.

He should be used to strange events by now, shouldn’t he? He lives with two ghosts for fuck’s sake. The difference is that while Zitao and the other spirit scared him from time to time, this ‘coincidence’ makes his skin crawl. He keeps seeing that old lady from Saturday all over town. He sees her on the drive to work, on the drive back, when he’s in the grocery. Essentially, he sees her anytime he’s not home. It’s only been a few days, but the number of times Junmyeon’s seen her is too many for him to write off as a simple coincidence.

She’s just an old woman with a walker, but the very sight of her sends goosebumps prickling all over his body. Something about her stare make him feel nothing but bone-deep terror. The fact that she’s always, _always_ staring at him probably has a lot to do with it, but even the thought of her gives makes something in his gut twist painfully.

Junmyeon wants to tell someone about her, but he has no one to tell. Minseok still doesn’t know about Zitao. Well, he knows but doesn’t _know_. In fact, Minseok had spent all of their lunch on Tuesday trying to convince him to move out and back into the not-haunted apartment. Secretly, Junmyeon thinks it’s partly because Minseok doesn’t like having to be in alone in the apartment at night. The man doesn’t get lonely, he’s just terrified of the dark and likes to watch scary movies before he goes to bed.

Junmyeon can’t keep it all bottled up for much longer, not when he knows that he’s going to see that woman again tomorrow. He rolls over onto his side and grabs his phone off the nightstand. He blinks in surprise when he sees that he’s already got a text from Minseok waiting for him.

**From: Marshmallow Minnie**

_Hey…are you volunteering at an old folk’s home or something?_

**To: Marshmallow Minnie**

_…no? Why do you ask?_

**From: Marshmallow Minnie**

_This old lady came into the clinic today asking if I knew u. Really weird, right?_

Junmyeon’s heart nearly stops beating. Even when he’d been scared out of his mind by the spirits, he’d never felt like he was in any actual danger. Sure, his mind had immediately jumped to ‘death by ghost’ because that’s what all the horror movies he’s ever seen had said would happen, but he’d never felt this kind of fear before. The man’s spirit appearing under his sheets had felt like a jump scare, something that’s terrifying for a moment but then becomes hilarious once the moment has passed. The woman seeking out Minseok feels like a threat.

**To: Marshmallow Minnie**

_What did you say?_

He needs to know. Junmyeon _needs_ to know just how much this woman knows about him, why she needs to know about him at all. He knows that she knows where he lives, but she can’t hurt Zitao. At least, he doesn’t think she can. But Minseok isn’t safe, he has nowhere to hide if things get ugly. The logical side of him is metaphorically smashing its head into a wall because it can’t believe that a woman that old could be of any danger to him. The other part, the part that convinced him to buy the house and pushed him to play with Zitao is quickly tipping into fight-or-flight. Minseok’s reply calms him just a little, but the gnawing fear in his gut doesn’t abate.

**From: Marshmallow Minnie**

_I was in an appointment w Baekhyun and Mongryeong so I never actually saw her. (he’s fully recovered, btw ^w^) one of the nurses told me when I came out and I thought it was kinda weird yanno._

**To: Marshmallow Minnie**

_Send Mongryeong my regards. If she comes by again, tell her you don’t know me._

**From: Marshmallow Minnie**

_Freaking me out a little here, Myeon. Why is an old lady looking for u???_

Junmyeon barks out a hollow-sounding laugh. He’s freaking Minseok out? Junmyeon is way past freaking out and is barreling towards full-fledged panic. It feels like he’s being stalked, like he’s not safe even in his own home. Of course he’s safe in his own home though. The man likes him, and Junmyeon doesn’t think that the man would let any harm come to someone he likes.

**To: Marshmallow Minnie**

_I’d like to figure that out too. Come over tomorrow night?_

**From: Marshmallow Minnie**

_Sure just don’t let the ghosts kill me or anything ok?_

**To: Marshmallow Minnie:**

_Zitao wouldn’t hurt a fly, I can’t guarantee what the other guy will do if you’re mean to Zitao though_

**From: Marshmallow Minnie**

_JESUS CHRIST KIM JUNMYEON THAT’S NOT FUNNY_

His phone buzzes repeatedly as Minseok sends a string of keyboard smashes. Junmyeon mutes the text conversation and puts his phone back on the nightstand. He’s still exhausted, but the mention of Zitao makes him realize his cuddle buddy is nowhere in sight. “Zitao,” he calls out to the darkness, “I’m going to bed.” Zitao blinks into existence at the foot of his bed, nearly giving Junmyeon a heart attack, before crawling up to him and sliding under the covers.

“There you are,” Junmyeon coos and lets Zitao rearrange himself until he’s comfortable, “I can’t sleep without my cuddle buddy, can I?” Zitao vigorously shakes his head and snuggles closer, latching onto Junmyeon as if the man is going to disappear if he’s not held down. Junmyeon knows that the other spirit is there too, probably lurking in some corner and keeping watch over them. “Thank you,” he says as he gives a thumbs-up in what he hopes is the man’s general direction. “I really needed that.”

 _Of course._ Junmyeon really loves that voice, how sweet it sounds in his ear. He might say as much too, because his brain-to-mouth filter has been held hostage until he gets a decent night’s sleep. _Anything for you._ He’s pretty sure that there was a ‘darling’ tacked on to the end of the sentence, but that’s for a less exhausted him to examine. He tries to say something in response, but he’s asleep before he can even begin to string a sentence together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I posted a new fic! If you like Seventeen and ABO and want to see a fic where I actually keep things dark, click [ here! ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13667811/chapters/31395441)
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! If you did, I would love it if you were so kind as to leave a kudos and a comment or come talk to me at on [ Twitter. ](https://twitter.com/killmeDO) I also opened up a [ Curious Cat ](https://curiouscat.me/killmeDO) please come ask questions about the story or anything else! (I love talking to you guys and I would love to hear what you think of this story!)


	6. VI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note of warning! This is the darkest chapter of the story so far and is probably the darkest chapter of the whole thing! I just added the warning of Graphic Violence so please read this when you are in a safe, comfortable in environment! I am all about taking care of yourself mentally and emotionally!
> 
> As always, thank you so much for all your love and support and I hope this chapter starts to answer some questions!!
> 
> Thank you Aarushi for being a kick-ass beta! These chapters would be garbage without you hahaha

Minseok looks very wary as he steps into the house the following evening. Junmyeon is a little sad that Minseok can’t see Zitao, because the way the little boy is hopping up and down in excitement would probably wipe that look right off his face. Junmyeon had tried to explain that Minseok was probably not going to want to play as soon as he came over, but Zitao was too over the moon about having a new friend come to visit to really understand what he’d been told.

Zitao’s excitement had been enough to make Junmyeon forget about seeing the woman, at least. She’d looked angry for some reason, glaring at him from where she was sitting on a bench in the park he drove past on the way home.

“So,” Minseok starts off quiet, scanning the hallway for any sign of ghosts, “Do we have any…guests with us right now?” He startles when Junmyeon points to Zitao, who is standing right in front of Minseok with a big smile on his face.

“Zitao’s right there. He’s very excited to get to meet you properly. I don’t know where the other one is. He comes and goes as he pleases.” Well, he comes and goes as _Junmyeon_ pleases, but he’d rather not explain how the other spirit seems to be attuned to each and every emotion that he has. Minseok narrows his eyes at the ground, obviously not pleased to have a ghost in his personal space, but he schools his face into a semi-pleasant expression when Junmyeon’s voice tightens, “Zitao is _five_ and very sweet. He would love it if you drew some pictures with him later.”

Minseok levels him with a knowing look but smiles awkwardly down at Zitao anyway. The little boy nearly vibrates with excitement and turns back to Junmyeon to show him how he’s made a new friend. He runs off down the hallway and Junmyeon watches him go in confusion.

“That’s so weird,” Minseok says as he shakes his head. Junmyeon raises an eyebrow in confusion and gestures at the space in front of him. “I don’t see anything, but you just turned your head like you were watching someone run by. It makes me feel like I’m crazy, or maybe you are, since you’re the one that sees an invisible child. Sorry, kid.” Minseok edges around the space Junmyeon had pointed to like he’s afraid of coming in contact with the ghost. Junmyeon debates telling him that Zitao isn’t there anymore, but decides it’s more entertaining to watch him creep around in fear.

Minseok’s feline eyes widen almost comically at something behind Junmyeon. He already has a pretty good idea of what’s going on behind him, and steps to the side so that Zitao has more room to throw his inflatable ball at the other man’s terrified face. While Zitao had been very partial to his toy cars, he’s developed a real love of that inflatable ball; Junmyeon took anything breakable out of the hallway so that Zitao can play with it whenever he wants. He has a habit of trying to hit Junmyeon with it whenever he thinks the man isn’t looking, and Junmyeon’s reaction time has improved immensely. Minseok, however, does not have that luxury, and he makes a noise somewhere between a squeak and an _oof_ when the ball hits him square in the face.

Junmyeon, like a sensible adult, high-fives Zitao while the other man is still distracted. It was a cheap shot, but a hit’s a hit.

“Alright, Zitao, I need to talk to Minseok about grown up things. I want you to go play with your other friend for a little while.” The other presence appears and picks Zitao up before the little boy can even begin to try and change Junmyeon’s mind, bottom lip just starting to poke out when both of them blink back to wherever they go. In a very awkward moment the previous night, Junmyeon had hid Zitao’s toy car in the the child’s bedroom to give himself some time alone, and had asked the other spirit to keep the boy occupied while he discussed some things with Minseok.

“He can be such a handful sometimes,” Junmyeon says to Minseok, who looks like he might pass out or throw up, maybe both if they’re really unlucky. “Sorry…I’m so used to him that I’m starting to forget how weird this whole situation is.”

He took a few psychology classes back in college. He knows about classical conditioning and habituation and how easily the human brain can adapt to new things, but it hadn’t occurred to him just _how fast_ it can happen. He’s been the house for a little over two weeks, but Zitao is already so ingrained into his daily routine, his life, that Junmyeon can’t really remember life without him. That should scare him, shouldn’t it? He thinks that it should, but he just feels a warm and fuzzy feeling in his chest.

He does feel a little bad for not accounting for Minseok’s discomfort though. Zitao and the man are normal to Junmyeon, something he’s become accustomed to. To Minseok, though, the house, the ghosts, all of it, is strange. Not strange in the way some people at Wal-Mart seem strange, harmless and just vaguely off, but _strange_ as in unusual, frightening, dangerous. Junmyeon wouldn’t be entirely surprised if Minseok turned around and walked right out of the house.

To his utter relief, Minseok doesn’t. Instead, he walks past Junmyeon muttering, “Jesus Christ on a ferris wheel this is weird.” Junmyeon takes it as a win and follows him into the kitchen where the take-out he grabbed on the way home is waiting for them.

“Okay,” Minseok says in between bites, “so you’re telling me that you’ve essentially adopted a ghost child?” He’d taken Junmyeon’s story better than either of them thought he would. He’d even laughed when Junmyeon mentioned knocking himself out with the lamp. His hands shake a little and Junmyeon can see the tension in his shoulders, but Minseok is dealing with the information the best he can.

Junmyeon chokes on his drink and sprays water all over the table when he sputters helplessly. “ _Adopted_ ,” his voice jumps up three octaves and his face burns with embarrassment.

Minseok nods and looks at him likes he might be running a bit slower than usual. “Yes,” he says slowly and points to his fridge, which is absolutely covered in Zitao’s drawings, “adopted. Look at your fridge, Jun, look at your house!”

Junmyeon makes an affronted noise that. Yes, the stuffed panda he got for Zitao is lying on the kitchen floor next to an action figure, probably dropped mid-battle when the little boy heard Junmyeon come home. And yes, his kitchen table has marker stains from the scented markers both he and Zitao love to draw with. But it’s not his fault that Zitao can be really bad about picking up after himself. Junmyeon does his best to keep the house tidy, but it’s not easy taking care of a child and working full-time. Maybe Minseok should take his child for a week and see how clean he keeps _his_ house.

Then he realizes that he sounds just like his mother and realizes Minseok might be onto something.

Zitao sleeps with him, mostly because the little boy doesn’t like being alone at night and Junmyeon’s a cuddler. Junmyeon has found himself in the toy aisle more than once because he thought about Zitao and how he might like to have some newer toys to play with. There was one memorable occasion where he ended up in the children’s clothing section holding the most adorable pair of panda pajamas in existence and choking back tears because Zitao can’t wear them. Each moment makes Junmyeon realize how attached he is to Zitao, how much he loves his little ghost.

The final nail in the coffin is when Minseok straightens his shoulders and drops into the tone he uses when telling his patients’ owners that the animal isn’t going to make it. He sounds so soft and consoling that Junmyeon almost wants to hit him. “I don’t know if you know this, but when you refer to Zitao you call him ‘my child’ or ‘my little boy.’ You literally called him your son at one point.” He acts as if it’s the worst thing that could’ve happened to someone, but Junmyeon just feels a little stupid for not realizing it sooner.

“That explains why he labeled me as ‘Mama’ on the picture he drew of the two of us then.” That picture isn’t up on the fridge with the rest. It’s laying on his nightstand waiting for a frame. Junmyeon is not ashamed to say that it’s probably one of his most precious possessions. Minseok’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline and his lips twitch like he’s about to smile. Minseok is just as weak as he is when it comes to kids, and Zitao will win him over sooner or later. Oddly enough, he’s not all that bothered by Zitao calling him ‘Mama’, but that’s something for him to examine at a later date.

The most pressing matter on Junmyeon’s mind is the old woman. He and Minseok have plenty of time to work through Minseok’s discomfort around Zitao and discuss how Junmyeon accidentally adopted a ghost; he’d really like to focus on the borderline stalking first. “So that old woman that came into the clinic yesterday, I think she’s stalking me. I see her every time I leave the house, and I even saw her across the street last weekend.”

“Why would an old lady be stalking you?” Minseok’s brow furrows in confusion. “Also, the nurses at work said that the woman looked ancient, like a weak breeze could knock her over without that walker. Why are you scared of her?”

Guilt and uneasiness make a home in his chest as he tries to think of what to say. Minseok’s not wrong, the woman looks old, frail, and a lot like one of those sweet grandmas that is always baking cookies or knitting sweaters. It’s a complete contradiction to the way his skin crawls whenever he sees her, and he’s pretty sure he knows why. Junmyeon has questioned his sanity more times in the past few weeks than in the rest of his life combined, but this theory really takes the cake.

Minseok knows a little about Zitao’s death, none of the more gruesome details because Junmyeon felt vaguely sick just thinking about the pain his little boy had to go through, but the basics of what happened to him. Junmyeon hopes that those details are enough to make Minseok understand whatever crazy he’s about to spout, “I think I’m being stalked by Zitao’s mother.” Minseok doesn’t say anything in response, just watches him with a curious tilt to his head that means he’s really thinking. “She’s certainly old enough to be JiaJia, and she just disappeared after they let her out a few years ago. I checked all the records I could get my hands on online and she was reported missing when she failed to show up for her first check-up to assess her mental state. Just – what if she’s senile or delusional and coming after me for living in her house?”

He waits for Minseok to point out some major flaw in his logic and render his panicked train of thought useless. It’s what he needs, he needs to be told that he’s being an idiot and it’s probably just another grumpy old woman that he’s been seeing around town. “You know, normally I would say that you’re making a mountain of a molehill, but I also just watched you interact with a ghost boy. At this point, anything is possible.”

Junmyeon drops his forehead to the table with a groan. Why did he think Minseok, the man who has been known to scream like a little girl because he thought a spider was in his general vicinity, would be a voice of reason? The man believes in ghosts, why would an old woman who murdered her son fifty years ago be any stranger?

“Hey,” Minseok says cheerfully and pokes at his shoulder. When Junmyeon looks up, he can see that the other man has on his best optimistic face, “At least you don’t live alone. You’ve got a free twenty-four-hour security system in the form of Zitao and the other guy.” Junmyeon grabs the nearest paper product, crumples it into a ball, and chucks it at Minseok’s face. “Hey! I didn’t skip out on a blind date just to be hit in the face by you and your ghostly son!”

His son. The phrase has a nice ring to it. He’ll have to ask Zitao how he feels about Junmyeon calling him his son.

“So sorry about your date,” Junmyeon mumbles from where he’s smushed his face against the table. Minseok’s nonchalance at Junmyeon’s potential stalker potentially being JiaJia stings, but he also didn’t make his best friend privy to the fact that JiaJia is a satanic child murderer. Something in his gut is telling him that he’s in danger and he’s pretty sure that Minseok would be on high-alert too if he really thought something was going on. As is, Junmyeon swallows down the niggling fear that something is looming on the horizon and listens to his best friend recount Baekhyun trying to get him to agree to the blind date he canceled in the first place.

“He was so adamant that I give this guy a chance, it was kind of creepy. He was so convinced that we’d be a good match that I eventually gave in. I was so glad when you asked me to come over; I texted Baekhyun that it was family emergency and got out of the date unscathed,” Minseok smiles smugly to himself. “I love Baekhyun, I really do, but why would I want to date someone his husband, someone super intimidating and kind of a prick, considers a friend? His picture was really cute though. He’s Chinese? Maybe? The name Luhan sounds Chinese at least.”

The lights go out all of the sudden and Junmyeon lets out a cry of annoyance. “Turn the lights back on, please!” They flicker back on almost immediately with a soft _Sorry_ whispered into his ear.  When Junmyeon’s eyes readjust to sudden change in lighting, he sees that Minseok’s face has drained of all color. “Minseok…” he ventures and reaches out a hand to soothe his best friend.

The older man jumps at the soft touch to his arm and nearly falls out of his chair. “Holy fuck,” he whispers, “I swear to all things holy I saw someone behind you in the dark.” Junmyeon rolls his eyes, of course the man had been listening in on their conversation. It strikes him for a moment that this level of calm when told that someone is lurking behind you is not normal, but nothing in his life really is at this point.

“He’s probably just eavesdropping instead of keeping Zitao entertained _like I asked_.” Junmyeon sounds like a nagging spouse even to his own ears, but honestly, how hard is it to keep Zitao entertained for an hour while he talks to Minseok? The thought of Zitao makes Junmyeon realizes that he already misses the little boy. He doesn’t like being separated from him for long. “Do you mind if I call Zitao back to play with us now? He gets lonely pretty easily.”

Minseok nods, “I’d rather have him here than whoever the hell that was behind you.” Junmyeon would be a little offended on the other spirit’s behalf if he didn’t feel the same way most of the time. Zitao’s presence is calming, sweet, disarming, and the little boy lights up whatever room he’s in. The other presence makes Junmyeon feel calm and safe sometimes, nauseous and terrified the other.

“Zitao, would you like to come play with us,” Junmyeon’s voice is sweet and fond as it carries throughout the empty house. Zitao appears at his side instantaneously with crayons and paper clutched in his hands. Minseok lets out small squeak of surprise at what Junmyeon’s suspects in floating crayons hovering in mid-air. “C’mere, Minseok’s been admiring your drawings.” Junmyeon lifts Zitao into his lap. It’s not entirely true, Minseok’s only referenced them, but it makes Zitao giggle and squirm in pleased embarrassment so Junmyeon’s more than happy with his little white lie.

It takes Minseok a long time to really warm up to Zitao. He watches him color, obviously disturbed by the fact that he can’t see the boy. Junmyeon doesn’t blame him because he knows firsthand just how terrifying interacting with a being that you can’t see can be. Zitao doesn’t really notice that Minseok’s distant. It’s a godsend, really, because Junmyeon’s learned the hard way just how difficult it is to try and calm down a child that can’t communicate well. The little boy is much more interested in Junmyeon’s attention, which he receives in abundance.

Minseok finally cracks when Zitao pours all his attention into a picture of a rainbow-colored kitten and then writes ‘Minsock’ above it with a smiley face. He coos and takes the picture when it’s offered with careful fingers, mumbling to himself about needing more magnets for his fridge. He doesn’t even bother to correct the misspelling, though Junmyeon would’ve been quick to show him the many different ways Zitao has found to spell his name if he had.

“What’s your favorite animal,” Minseok leans over the table and pulls some of the crayons to himself. “Dogs? Cats? Rabbits?” Minseok makes a soft noise when Zitao writes ‘panda’ in sloppy, excited letters and pulls up a picture of one on his phone to copy down. “This is going to be the cutest panda you’ve ever seen.” Zitao claps his hands together and bounces happily, enraptured in the cartoon panda Minseok is painstakingly drawing for him.

The rest of the night is spent around the kitchen table. Zitao puts Minseok’s drawing up on the fridge and the man tries his best not to look smug when Junmyeon mumbles that none of his drawings are up there. Junmyeon breaks out Jenga, excited to show Zitao his skills, but Zitao decides that it’s much more fun to knock over the tower when it’s Minseok’s turn to watch him panic and flounder to keep it up. Junmyeon feels a little left out when Jenga turns into a game of Zitao and Minseok trying to build their own towers and knock each other’s down, but it’s so worth it to watch the little boy smile and laugh like he’s having the time of his life. Junmyeon takes his comfort in Zitao’s smile, and is able to forget about the old woman and leave his worries for later.

He shouldn’t have forgotten about the old woman.

Junmyeon walks Minseok out to his car after a game of Uno turns into Zitao hitting Minseok with four pickup-four cards and winning all in one turn. Minseok, though a little bitter about getting his ass handed to him, promises to come back and play with Zitao soon. He keeps the kitten drawing clutched close to his chest to protect it from the rain that started up somewhere between Jenga and Minseok’s death by Uno. It’s late, much later than Junmyeon normally stays up on Friday nights after a week of teaching, and the moon has been taken captive by the clouds and it’s oppressively dark.

He walks Minseok all the way to the man’s car parked on the street because it’s too dark for him to even see his hand in front of his face and Minseok keeps tripping on the stepping stones. Junmyeon berates him for parking all the way out on the street when he could have fit in the driveway, but Minseok shushes him. “You’ve already got someone to mother, Jun, let me make my regrettable decisions in peace!” The man has to scamper out of Junmyeon’s reach to avoid the weak punch aimed his way. He loses his footing in the dark and trips flat on his ass in the grass in front of his car.

“Ha!” Junmyeon wonders if all this time with Zitao is rubbing off on him when he sticks his tongue out at Minseok and blows a raspberry in his direction. “Make fun of my caring nature again and see what happens, Minnie.” Minseok just groans and rubs at his now sore ass as he pulls himself off the ground and shuffles around the car to his driver’s side door. “Drive safely and call me when you get home,” Junmyeon waves his best friend off and waits for the taillights to disappear around a corner before walking back to the house.

It’s probably just Junmyeon’s imagination, but he swears that the night sky gets darker with each step he takes towards the house. He’d left the front door open so that Zitao could wave goodbye to Minseok, and he’s still standing in the entryway with a smile and his arms open wide for a hug. The sight makes Junmyeon smile in return and he quickens his steps to the door, darkness be damned. When he’s two, maybe three strides away from the door, the look on Zitao’s face goes from elated to terrified. He starts to mouth something that Junmyeon can’t understand and Junmyeon’s heart races in his chest.

Junmyeon takes one step closer to Zitao when a sweet and childish voice rings in his ears, “ _Mama!”_ Pain explodes across the back of his head and he’s unconscious before he even has time to process the hit.

Junmyeon tells anyone who asks about his constant to-do lists that he likes lists. He tells them he loves the way it feels to cross something off and know that he’s accomplished something. Junmyeon won’t tell anyone, but he fucking hates lists. He hates puzzles too, because those were the only toys his mother let him play with when she was home. His father always said that his mother had untreated OCD, that’s why she made him live by her lists every moment of his life. Now, Junmyeon knows that she never had OCD and was a woman who felt like she had no control in her own life so she controlled her child’s instead. Zitao made him stop thinking in puzzles and lists, and let him view the world as the big beautiful of jumble of chaos it truly is. Junmyeon hasn’t made a single list since he met Zitao; his child is too free to be contained by check boxes and he loves him even more for that fact alone. But for this, Junmyeon thinks he’ll break his no-list streak.

One: his head fucking _hurts._ Two: he can’t move his arms or legs, not well at least. Junmyeon can’t continue his list when he opens his eyes, because the first thing he sees is Zitao curled into a ball just a few feet away, probably forced away by what appears to be a circle of rock salt around Junmyeon’s body. He’s shaking so badly that Junmyeon can see it even in the dark that’s only marginally lifted by the candles covering the room. He wants to reach out for him, pull him close and rock him until he stops crying, but his hands are tied together so tight that it almost hurts. He tries to call for his little boy, but there’s a gag tied around his mouth.

Zitao raises his head from where it’s pillowed on his arms. His eyes are wide and haunted, unseeing when he looks straight past Junmyeon like the man isn’t even there to focus on something behind him. He comes back to himself for just a moment, but whatever he sees behind Junmyeon sends him spiraling back into a trembling mess. It takes Junmyeon longer than it should have to realize that the little boy is having a full-blown panic attack; they look different on everyone, but Junmyeon recognizes that blank look of panic from his own reflection.

“Pathetic,” comes a voice from above him. “I can’t believe I raised such a pathetic boy.” Zitao flinches like he’s been struck and Junmyeon hopes that the anger flooding his system gives him enough mother’s adrenaline to rip through the ropes tying him down and punch whoever just said that straight in the jaw. He knows who it is though, just like he knew who that old woman was the moment he saw her. Huang JiaJia hits hard for a woman in her late seventies.

Junmyeon closes his eyes and lets himself go limp when he hears her crossing the room to come stand right next to him. Some unknown self-preservation instincts tell him to lie still and let her think that he’s still unconscious. Once he gets up though, he’s going to tear the bitch limb from limb for hurting Zitao; he just has to wait a little while longer.

JiaJia picks up something off the floor near Junmyeon’s head and he hears the bone-chilling sound of metal meeting metal. “I got the same knife I used on you, boy. Won’t that be nice, for you and your new mommy to die the exact same way? Hopefully he won’t scream like you.” There’s a few sniffles, but Junmyeon knows that he can only hear a fraction of the noises Zitao makes. He’s probably sobbing by now. The thought sends white hot rage zinging up his spine and he barely swallows down a snarl.

He has to stay silent. The second she knows she’s awake is the second she stops taking her time.

“I knew that the ritual would open the door between planes, but I guess I forgot that meant I’d have to see your whiny face again,” JiaJia moves back to the other side of the living room and the sound of paper’s ruffling echoes through the silence. “You’re not the one I want. Where is he, hm? Where’s Yifan?” Her voice goes soft and lovesick at the name and Junmyeon wants to vomit. He’s not sure how he knows it, but his brain automatically attaches Yifan to the voice that’s been rumbling in his ear.

There’s no answer to her question, just silence occasionally broken up by Zitao’s sniffles. Yifan is probably on the other side of the rock salt barrier, the one that’s a few feet beyond the small circle encompassing Junmyeon’s body. Why isn’t Zitao out there as well? He could be hiding and safe in his room, not trapped between two barriers and forced to listen to his mother spit insults at him. Junmyeon cracks his eyes open and nearly bursts into tears. Zitao is reaching for him, forced back by the rock salt each time.

“Good fucking lord, boy, would you stop,” JiaJia snarls and Zitao freezes in place as he watches her with a look of unparalleled fear in his eyes, “He’ll be dead in just a bit and then you two can go fuck off into the sunset making flower crowns or whatever shit fairies like him do. Let me read the ritual and then I’ll kill him quick, a parting gift from me to you.” She starts chanting and the words sound ancient and horrible. They grate against his ears, make his eyes water and his stomach churn.

Something flickers into existence past Zitao. A tall man appears at the edge of living room, face murderous as he watches Zitao fall apart on the floor while trying to get to Junmyeon in vain. Junmyeon thinks that it might be the concussion he most likely has from being struck in the back of the head, but the man is absolutely breathtaking. His eyes keep switching from red to dark brown and back again, and he looks like he’s about to unleash hell on Earth, but Junmyeon can’t find a single reason as to why he isn’t the most handsome man he’s ever seen.

Their eyes meet and the man’s murderous scowl melts into a soft, worried frown. This is the one Junmyeon’s been living with, isn’t it? He’s the other presence, and he’s not a ghost at all. Junmyeon smiles in recognition behind the gag. Now he knows why he can’t remember anything about Minseok’s explanation of demons.

The chanting behind him comes to a stop. Feet come into his field of vision and he slams his eyes shut. He doesn’t want to look away from the man – _Yifan_ , his mind helpfully provides – but he can’t blow his cover yet. “There you are,” JiaJia purrs, “It’s been quite a while, hasn’t it? Did you miss me, Yifan?”

“Not in the slightest,” comes the voice that Junmyeon knows better than his own. “I could never see you again and be perfectly content.” Junmyeon hears something else in his mind, though. _You have to stop her on your own. She’s wearing a necklace made completely out of rock salt, chain and all, so I can’t touch her._

Junmyeon bites down a whimper of pain as he tries to force himself off the ground. His head throbs so badly it makes his vision swim and the world tilt on its axis. He nearly collapses when his already compromised balance is coupled with the fact that his feet are bound together at the ankles. There’s no give in the rope and Junmyeon can barely get his feet under him.

JiaJia is too enraptured with Yifan to pay attention to Junmyeon struggling to his feet behind her, which is probably part of Yifan’s plan in the first place. “That’s not a very nice thing to say to your future wife,” she simpers, voice so sweet it’s sour, “And I was going to kill your boy toy quickly as a sign of good faith…you can throw that out the window now. I’m going to make him suffer, and you’re going to watch him bleed to death. Maybe I’ll pull out the exorcism I have written down and send Zitao on a one-way trip to hell.”

She sounds excited at the prospect of torturing her son and a man she’s never met before, like a kid in a candy store that’s been told they can get whatever their heart desires. It almost Junmyeon vomit behind the gag. He chances a look at Zitao and sees that the little boy is nearly catatonic, just rocking back and forth and staring into nothingness. Junmyeon has an absolutely insane idea, one that relies on Zitao taking enough comfort in his presence to push down the ungodly trauma that’s sent him into shock and for there to be a loophole in how rock salt repels ghosts.

He gently toes off one of the slippers he’d worn outside and maneuvers it until it’s pointed right at Zitao. Everything has to go perfectly, not one error can be made or Junmyeon’s going to end up as a matching blood stain on the carpet. JiaJia is still taunting Yifan, telling him exactly how she’s planned to make Junmyeon’s death last the rest of the night. Yifan looks like he’s toeing the line between horror and uncontrollable rage; it makes Junmyeon feel just a bit better to know that Yifan cares for him that much.

He steadies himself in a crouch, tonguing the gag out of his mouth as he goes, and tries to ignore the fact that he’s shaking so hard he nearly makes himself fall over. With his hands bound, he can’t knock her out like she did to him. Then again, he doesn’t have to; he just has to make it so that Yifan can get to her. The rock salt necklace Yifan had mentioned is visible even from behind, and that’s what he focuses on. His head hasn’t stopped hurting and it makes him feel like he’s moving in slow motion.

Junmyeon takes one deep, steadying breath and then launches himself at JiaJia. He takes the back of the necklace in both hands and pulls until he hears a crack. JiaJia whirls around to face him, wizened face alive with rage, and she swings the knife at him. It barely misses as he drops back down to the floor. The necklace is hanging from his hand in pieces and he throws it as hard as he can into the nearest wall in hopes that it will shatter completely.

“You little son of a bitch,” JiaJia snarls, “I’m going to gut you just like I did to your precious Zitao!” Junmyeon knows she’s trying to get a rise out of him, make him stupid with anger.

Instead, he kicks his slipper as hard as he can to Zitao, breaking the first salt circle on the way. “Zitao,” he calls out in softest voice he can manage. Zitao flinches at the sound of his name but comes back to himself just a little when he realizes it’s Junmyeon calling to him. “Zitao, honey, I know you’re very scared,” Junmyeon rolls out of the way and kicks at JiaJia’s legs when the woman tries to plunge the knife into his chest. “I know you’re scared, but I need you to take my shoe and break the other salt circle.”

“Don’t you dare, Huang Zitao!” JiaJia turns to pin Zitao in place with a downright bone-chilling scowl. “You do that and I’ll cut your Mama’s fingers off one at a time and make you eat them.” She yelps at the vicious kick Junmyeon lands on her shin. No one ever threatens his child.

“I need you to do it. I know you can. Please, for Mama?” Zitao meets Junmyeon’s gaze as the light returns to his eyes. He snatches Junmyeon’s slipper of the floor and bats away as much of the salt as he can. “That’s my Zitao-” Junmyeon is cut off mid-sentence when JiaJia manages to glance the knife off his forearm.

Zitao throws the slipper at JiaJia and gets up to run to Junmyeon’s aid, but before the slipper can even leave his hand a wind blows through the room. There’s a loud thud, then a scream, and suddenly Junmyeon registers that JiaJia isn’t standing above him anymore. The ropes around his hands and legs are gone too. Zitao rushes to his side and crawls into his lap, shaking with silent sobs. Junmyeon shushes him as gently as he can and twists them both around to see Yifan holding JiaJia to the wall by her throat. It’s then that he finally notices all the symbols drawn into the walls, and how they’re all slowly lighting up to a nearly fluorescent red.

JiaJia struggles weakly against Yifan’s hold and screams in frustration. Junmyeon watches with an odd detachment as the man bends down a little, one long arm somehow managing to keep her place as he uses the other to grab a mess of papers on the floor and ignite them on one of the candles. “Junmyeon,” he rumbles and the sound of his name in that voice makes Junmyeon’s stomach do an odd sort of flip, “according to the deal, you get to make three demands. What are they?”

JiaJia goes wild in Yifan’s hold, her old body putting up as much of a fight as it can against supernatural strength. “I didn’t finish the ritual,” she shrieks, “there hasn’t been an offering! Those demands are mine to make, I read the spell!”

“Hush, mortal,” Yifan says disinterestedly and squeezes her throat in punishment when she tries to speak again. “Your three demands, Junmyeon?” He smiles softly at Junmyeon and Zitao, eyes warm and dark in the low light. Junmyeon feels a little like he’s going insane, but he relaxes under Yifan’s gaze. He’s sitting in the dark, bleeding from a cut on his arm from a ghost child’s murderous mother, cuddling that ghost child to his chest like it’s his own, and he’s surrounded by demonic symbols and an actual demon; yet, he’s never felt safer before in his entire life.

“Wha-what can I ask for?” Yifan smiles wider at the soft tone in Junmyeon’s voice, then frowns when he claps a hand over one of his ears. The hissing from the first time he walked into the house is back, so loud he can barely hear himself think but thankfully wordless.

“Anything your heart desires.” Junmyeon feels like there should be something attached to the end of that sentence, a name or a title, but he can’t focus with the hissing in his ears.

All he can think about is the solid weight of Zitao in his arms and the way that the little boy fought through his own terror for him.  God, he wants to listen to Zitao chatter like little kids do, take him to the park when spring time comes around, go trick-or-treating, give his child the rest of the life that he deserves. “Can I…” Junmyeon trails off as the noise starts to make his ears ring. Zitao is staring at him in worry and leans up to wrap his tiny arms around Junmyeon’s neck in a hug. Junmyeon knows exactly what he wants. “I want Zitao back.”

“That’s not how the deal works-,” JiaJia is cut off when Yifan tightens the hand on her throat once more.

The symbols on the wall glow unbelievably bright for a moment and then dim back to their original state. “As you wish,” the demon draws a single tally mark on the wall next to JiaJia’s head, his fingers leave behind the same fluorescent red as the other symbols. “The second?”

Junmyeon’s brain pulls up all the nasty things JiaJia spit at Zitao, how she stalked Minseok, his best friend, to work, and Donna’s story about Zitao’s last night on Earth. Anger claws its way up his throat and he makes no move to swallow it back down. Not even the buzzing, which gets louder and louder with each passing second, can interrupt his concentration. “I want her gone,” Junmyeon points a finger at JiaJia.

The symbols glow, another tally mark is drawn on the wall. JiaJia shrieks in terror when Yifan’s smile grows cruel for a moment. “As you wish.” He doesn’t get a chance to ask Junmyeon for the third demand, because the human screams as the buzzing becomes too loud for him to bear.

“Please,” he yells over the hissing in his ears, “make the hissing stop! Like you did before!” Junmyeon can’t see it, eyes squeezed shut against the noise as tears leak out, but Yifan’s smile softens into something that sends JiaJia reeling with terror.

Yifan notices the way her eyes widen with fear, “You didn’t account for that, did you?” JiaJia opens her mouth, maybe to beg for mercy, but Yifan fulfills Junmyeon’s second demand and crushes her windpipe with a soft squeeze of his hand. He lets her body drop and then turns to where Junmyeon is still huddled on the floor, Zitao holding him as tight as he can. Yifan drops down next to the other man and rests a gentle hand on his head. “I was hoping you’d say that, darling.” He isn’t quiet, but Junmyeon can’t hear anything over the noise. “As you wish.”

There’s a sound like ripping cloth, identical to the one that rang through the house the first time Junmyeon stepped through the threshold, only much louder. It echoes louder and louder and louder and _louder_ and Junmyeon’s eardrums are going to _burst_. And then it’s abruptly silent. There’s a beat or two for Junmyeon to enjoy the blessed silence, until Zitao goes slack against his chest in a way that only comes from unconsciousness. The hand in his hair disappears and a strong arm comes around him to support his back. “I’ve got you,” is murmured softly against his temple and then a wave of something indescribable washes over him.

Junmyeon feels like he’s falling asleep, and the last thing he remembers before giving in to the wave is the odd feeling of a heartbeat thumping right alongside his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! If you did, I would love it if you were so kind as to leave a kudos and a comment or come talk to me at on [ Twitter. ](https://twitter.com/killmeDO) I also opened up a [ Curious Cat ](https://curiouscat.me/killmeDO) please come ask questions about the story or anything else! (I love talking to you guys and I would love to hear what you think of this story!)


	7. VII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for so much support for the last chapter! I was really blown away by all the sweet comments and messages on CC <3 Also thank you to aguamyeontee and frevan for pointing out some flaws in my writing hahaha. I will have to go through this weekend and change them. I hope you all enjoy this chapter!
> 
> As always, thank you Aarushi for betaing!!! You are the guiding light that stops these chapters from being really fucking weird and stupid!

He’s never woken up so slowly before. The world is warm and soft and calm all around him. Junmyeon sighs contently into the pillow under his face and just lets the morning wash over him. It’s early, very early if the dim lighting he can see through his eyelids is anything to go by. He should really be asleep right now, seeing as it’s one of his two days to sleep in and not get up at ass o’clock in the morning, but he’ll settle for this nice state between awake and asleep. There’s cold wet spot on his chest, but it’s barely noticeable in comparison to everything else. All he can hear is the fan whirring on the ceiling and the soft, steady breathing of the person next to him.

It’s a testament to how tired he is that he doesn’t spasm and fling himself off the bed when he realizes that there’s another person in the bed. Junmyeon’s become accustomed to Zitao snuggling in close at night, but the little boy is always out of bed and running around the house when he wakes up. Furthermore, Zitao doesn’t breathe.

Junmyeon’s sleep fuzzy mind slowly walks itself through the previous night. JiaJia, a ritual for which he was supposed to be the sacrifice, the haunted look in Zitao’s eyes, the other presence in the house showing his face as terribly powerful demon – _Yifan_ , he remembers – fighting with JiaJia to break the salt circles, and Junmyeon’s three demands. His first one had been for Zitao, hadn’t it? Junmyeon clearly recalls asking for Zitao alive and whole, but he can’t bring himself to believe that it might have actually happened.

Something in him, probably the same thing that got him into this whole mess in the first place, urges him to open his eyes and see who his mystery cuddle buddy is. He cracks his eyes open, and there’s black hair directly in his line of vision, mussed from sleep and baby soft where it brushes against his cheek. When he follows that down, he has to choke back a gasp as his heart almost stops in his chest.

Zitao is curled up against him, closed eyes darting around as he dreams. Junmyeon can hear his inhales and exhales, the sound of his lips smacking together in the way only sleeping children do. He’s drooling on Junmyeon’s shirt and the blankets wrapped around them both. It should be kind of gross, but Junmyeon’s heart feels like it’s going to burst at the sight of it. He’s never seen Zitao sleep before, he had assumed that ghosts just don’t. Aside from the spot that’s cold and wet from Zitao’s drool, the boy is like a little furnace and Junmyeon wonders how neither of them are sweating. Zitao’s never been warm before.

Junmyeon raises a shaky hand, the one not held tight in Zitao’s much smaller ones, and places it where he thinks - hopes his little boy’s pulse is. It takes a few terrifying moments before he feels it, a steady thump under his fingers. He doesn’t want to move then. He’s too scared that Zitao might disappear if he moves a single inch because Zitao is _alive_ and Junmyeon has almost convinced himself that he’s dreaming.

“Mama,” Zitao croaks and starts to open his eyes. He squeezes Junmyeon’s hand like it’s a lifeline. Junmyeon finally moves his hand away from the pulse thumping under Zitao’s skin to gently card through his hair. He’d been able to touch Zitao’s hair before, but never really feel it. He takes advantage of the miracle that he can now and runs his fingers through until Zitao sighs quietly and squirms into a more comfortable position. “Mama,” Zitao just stares like he doesn’t know how to do anything else, fighting the sleep pulling at his eyelids to take it all in.

Junmyeon feels an uncontainable urge to kiss Zitao’s forehead. So, he does, and Zitao smiles happily and closes his eyes again. “Go back to sleep,” Junmyeon murmurs against Zitao’s fluffy hair. He didn’t notice the tears pricking at his eyes until he hears just how thick and devastated his voice sounds with them. He’s vaguely aware that Zitao’s new status as a living person is a logistical nightmare that he has no idea how to sort out, but he lets himself enjoy shushing his child back to sleep. “I’m right here with you, sweetheart.”

Zitao does fall asleep, quite quickly actually. It doesn’t take more than some mumbled nonsense and Junmyeon’s fingers scratching soothingly at his scalp before his face relaxes and his breathing evens back out. Junmyeon doesn’t look away from Zitao’s face for a long time, marveling at the way his sides rise and fall with each breath. It’s stupidly early in the morning and Junmyeon can feel the stress from the night before weighing down on his eyelids, so it’s no real surprise that he falls asleep to the sound of Zitao’s breaths whistling in and out like little snores.

When Junmyeon wakes again, he feels much more like himself. His heart still skips a beat when Zitao shifts in his sleep and mumbles something about pancakes, but it isn’t the same all-consuming wonder as before. He’s able to think about things other than just the fact that Zitao is a living, breathing child in his arms.

For one, Zitao is a living, breathing child without an identity. He has no birth certificate or social security number. Well, he must have them, but those are for a man who’d be nearing sixty and has been marked as dead for the past fifty years. Junmyeon has no idea what he’s going to do about that. He doesn’t have any connections, any way to get Zitao the documents he needs as a citizen. Zitao doesn’t really need them immediately; Junmyeon’s pretty sure no one is going to ask to see Zitao’s birth certificate while he’s playing in the park or helping Junmyeon shop for groceries. What is he going to do for school though? They have no documentation to get Zitao registered, and that doesn’t even bring the gap in his education into consideration. Zitao has a kindergarten education from the sixties, and that doesn’t really amount to a kindergarten education today. He can forget getting Zitao enrolled into schooling soon, Junmyeon might have to spend the rest of the year helping him catch up to kids younger than him.

Junmyeon is knocked out of his downward spiral by a thump from somewhere else in the house. Someone is in his house, someone he doesn’t know. He slides out from under the covers and begins to make his way to the bedroom door. Zitao whines sleepily at the sudden cold and Junmyeon watches him roll over into the warm spot left behind before snuggling deeper into his little blanket cocoon. The sight makes Junmyeon even more determined to find out who is in his house; he’s got more than just himself to look out for now.

He closes the door as quietly as he can behind him, partially to avoid waking Zitao up and partially to avoid letting whoever is in his house know that he’s awake. Once he’s in the hallway, he can hear shuffling and soft thuds coming from the kitchen. Junmyeon curses under his breath. He had planned to grab a knife from the kitchen as a weapon, but that’s all up in smoke now. Instead, he presses himself up against the wall and slowly inches down the hall towards the kitchen.

Junmyeon gets as close as he dares and tries to peek into the room from across the hallway, but whoever is in there doesn’t walk into the sliver of the kitchen that he can see at this angle. His heart is thundering his chest at the thought of another fucking intruder in his house. For a brief second, he wonders if it’s JiaJia, but her removal had been one of his demands and if Zitao is anything to go by, all of those were fulfilled. He’s pretty sure that he’d actually seen Yifan get rid of her too, but that’s not an image he wants to think about when he’s dealing with a possible murderer.

As if Junmyeon had summoned him – it feels weird to use that term with an actual demon – Yifan’s head pokes through the entrance to kitchen. Junmyeon just barely refrains from screaming like a little girl, but only just. He does, however, jump backwards and slam the back of his head into the wall. Yifan raises one perfect eyebrow and then holds out a hand to beckon him forward. “You need to be more careful,” he says softly, “I can only do so much healing without a deal.”

Junmyeon is stepping forward before he realizes it and suddenly he’s in the kitchen and right up in Yifan’s space. It’s then at he notices that the man is absurdly tall because Junmyeon is staring right at his chin. If Yifan cares that they’re nearly pressed together from hip to chest, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he leans in even closer and rubs two fingers against Junmyeon’s temple until the soft ache in the back the human’s head goes away. “Better?”

Junmyeon nods his head once and steps back, turning away to hide the unruly blush warming up his face. He feels like an absolute idiot for not even considering the possibility that Yifan was still in the house. He’s also more than a little confused about why he can see and touch Yifan now when he’d never been able to before. Junmyeon had asked for Zitao to come back to life, not the other man. It feels like he’s missing something glaringly obvious, like when he calls Minseok on his phone because he can’t find his phone.

Yifan snorts behind him and looks like he’s struggling to smother a laugh when Junmyeon turns around to eye him curiously. The man is leaning against the dining table with an amused look on his face. Junmyeon’s at a loss as to what’s so funny though. Does he have really bad bedhead or something? A look down shows that he’s not wearing the Power Ranger pajamas Minseok got him as a joke a few years back, though the fact that he’s wearing pajamas at all is quite disconcerting considering he’s pretty sure he’d been wearing his work clothes when JiaJia knocked him out.

“What? What are you laughing at?” Junmyeon hates how defensive he sounds. He can already feel another blush starting to worm its way across his cheeks when Yifan smirks and throws something up in the air only to catch it again. Junmyeon has a strange feeling that he’s being mocked, and isn’t that an odd feeling? He’s being mocked in his kitchen on a Saturday morning by a demon, one that he had never been able to see until last night when it saved his life from the homicidal and slightly obsessed mother of his adopted ex-ghost son that is sleeping in the other room.

God, his life is a cosmic joke, isn’t it? By all logic, he should be grabbing Zitao and running out of the house screaming now that he knows that Yifan is a demon with powers that he can’t even begin to comprehend. Actually, if he was using real logic, he wouldn’t be grabbing Zitao since the child is a ghost that suddenly become a living person once more, but that’s why he isn’t a very logical person.

Yifan throws the object in his hands up into the air again, and Junmyeon realizes that it’s his cellphone. Junmyeon gasps and goes to snatch it out of the air but is no match for Yifan’s supernatural reflexes. The man studies him with a look bordering the edge of intense and obsessive before his smirk grows and he hands Junmyeon the phone with little fanfare. “I took the liberty of making a few calls while you two were asleep.”

Junmyeon makes a little noise of shock and outrage. Why would he need to use a phone? Who does he have to call, other demons? The thought of it sends unpleasant shivers down Junmyeon’s spine. How does he know how to work a modern cellphone? Junmyeon opens up his recent call list but doesn’t seen anything besides the call he’d made to Minseok two days ago. Not only does Yifan know how to work an iPhone, he knows how to go back and cover his tracks on it too.

“I won’t take your phone again, dar- Junmyeon. Mine should come in soon along with some documents for Zitao and some of my things,” Yifan breezes by Junmyeon to go snooping through the cabinets, leaving the other man to stand there gaping at him. “Neither of my…friends could get me a card like yours until later this week, but they did transfer over enough money to your account to go grocery shopping and get Zitao some new clothes and toys. By the way, you really should burn your bank information later, it was too easy to find in the kitchen drawer.”

Junmyeon tries to wrap his head around everything that’s coming out of the demon’s mouth. Yifan had used his phone to take care of nearly every single thing that he’d nearly worried himself sick about. He’s a little pissed that the man had thought that it was okay to just go snooping through his confidential financial information, but it’s tempered by the fact that Yifan had done it to give him money and not steal. “I…um…” Junmyeon flounders for a response and Yifan seems to enjoy watching him struggle. “Thank you? I think? I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to say to all that. I have to ask though, why did you do that?”

“I take care of my own,” Yifan says simply. He pushes his dirty blond hair out of his face as he scans the cupboards and frowns at what he finds. Junmyeon is still frozen in place watching the demon when he turns to look at him with an exasperatedly raised eyebrow. “Do you mind if I write the grocery list? You and Zitao can pick out snacks that you like, but I’d rather not put either of you in control of what we eat for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”

Junmyeon sputters at the insult and attempts to level the man with a pointed stare. It doesn’t work though, and Yifan only seems to be amused by the way Junmyeon squares his shoulders and puts his hands on his hips. “What is that supposed to mean? I am a grown man and am perfectly capable of picking out my own food!” Distantly, he realizes how strange it is to be arguing about groceries with a demon that he just met, even if they have technically known each other for a few weeks, but it doesn’t feel strange; it feels like a normal everyday occurrence, maybe even a little domestic.

Yifan doesn’t dignify him with a response, just holds up one of the cans of Chef Boyardee that Junmyeon has been living off of the past week. His face burns with embarrassment as he remembers that Yifan has been witness to all of his odd habits and shortcomings at being an actual adult. The demon’s mouth quirks up into an odd combination of a smirk and a fond smile and Junmyeon decides that it would be kind of nice to eat something that doesn’t come in a can or a box. He shrugs and wonders why he hasn’t questioned the insinuation that Yifan will be staying in the house too.

Yifan opens his mouth to talk, probably to mock Junmyeon’s inability to make foods that aren’t meant for children, but soft whimpering sounds come echoing down the hallway before he can speak.  “Zitao,” they call out in unison, worry coloring both of their voices. Yifan’s eyebrows furrow as he frowns and Junmyeon can only assume that he’s making the same expression. Footsteps pad down the hallway in rapid succession until Zitao is standing in the kitchen archway with a big frown and tearful eyes. He runs for Junmyeon the second he lays eyes on him and the man scoops him up with soft coos.

“What’s wrong, baby? Why are you crying?”

Zitao calms almost instantaneously once Junmyeon has him in his arms, but he sniffles and few a more tears leak out when replies, “You weren’t there when I woke up; I thought you were gone.”

Junmyeon’s heart nearly breaks in two and he hefts the little boy up higher to kiss at his face. Zitao basks in the attention like a cat in the sun, eyes closed and a serene smile on his face. The sight isn’t enough to lessen the guilt rolling around in Junmyeon’s gut. If last night had been traumatic for him, he can only imagine what kind of hell it had been for Zitao. The little boy had been forced through a scenario much too similar to his own murder and weather the abuse his murderer and former mother – Junmyeon is his mother now, and the man will fight anyone who says otherwise – spat at him.

God, his child is going to need some serious therapy, isn’t he?

Yifan’s hand suddenly appears in front of Junmyeon’s face as he reaches to ruffle Zitao’s hair. The little boy preens and pushes up into the demon’s palm, and Junmyeon finds himself wondering just how close the two are. “Mama’s not going anywhere any time soon, kid, not if I can help it. Now,” Yifan pulls Zitao out of Junmyeon’s arms with a practiced ease, like he’s used to carrying the boy around, “I don’t know about you, but I think it’s time for some breakfast. How do pancakes sound?” Zitao cheers excitedly for pancakes and bounces hard enough in Yifan’s arms that Junmyeon’s pretty sure a human would’ve dropped him.

“Can we have pancakes, Mama? Can we? Can we? Can we? Pleeeeaaaase?” Zitao draws his plea out for as long as his little lungs can hold it and attempts to fix Junmyeon with some kind of pout or puppy-dog face, but he keeps smiling at the prospect of pancakes and it ruins any power his sad face might’ve had. Thankfully for him, his smile has even more sway with Junmyeon, and the man can’t bring himself to deny Zitao his request. He nods and Zitao’s cheers reach a decibel that he’d once thought was only achievable by jet planes or construction sites when he’s trying to sleep.

Zitao slimes his out of Yifan’s arms to the floor, Junmyeon stands just off to the side with his arms slightly outstretched to catch him if he slips. Yifan raises in eyebrow and rolls his eyes in some odd cross of amusement and exasperation, but the demon is also over six feet tall and Junmyeon would rather not let his son fall that far to the ground. Zitao doesn’t pay any mind to either of the men until he makes it floor and leans up to grab Yifan’s hand. “Baba! Come help me get dressed while Mama makes pancakes!”

Yifan, for all that Junmyeon has seen him as an all-powerful demon who can probably wipe out the entire town if he chooses, melts into a metaphorical puddle when Zitao calls him ‘Baba.’ Yifan doesn’t resist when Zitao pulls him out of the kitchen, just follows along with an unbearably soft look on his face. That leaves Junmyeon alone and wondering how he’d gotten swindled into making pancakes when Yifan was the one who suggested it. Well, since he’s the one making them, he gets to decide what kind of pancakes they are and he wants just a little bit of pancake with his chocolate chips.

Zitao rushes in just as Junmyeon is taking the last of the pancakes out of the pan. Yifan comes in right behind him, a hairbrush in one hand and a pair of socks in the other. While he was cooking, Junmyeon realized that he’d gotten the easier job after he heard Yifan chasing after Zitao and calling for the little boy to turn his pants around and get his underwear off his head.

“Look, Mama,” Zitao preens and shows off his outfit, “I’m wearing day clothes!” Junmyeon has to remind himself continuously that his son was born in the sixties and thus only has clothes from that time period, but even that knowledge doesn’t stop him from choking back a snort because Zitao looks like a little dork. When the man finally gets a grip on his amusement, he realizes that this is the first time he’s seen Zitao in something other than the pajamas he’s always worn. He’d been stuck wearing the clothes he died in.

Junmyeon will happily take Zitao dressing like a little dweeb if it means that he’s alive.

“Get back here,” Yifan snatches Zitao up with an arm around the middle, “your hair is a mess, TaoTao. I have to fix it!” Zitao tries to wriggle away from the demon combing through the tangles in his hair, giggling and letting himself go limp in attempt to slime his way out. There’s something frightfully domestic about the way the two wrestle on the kitchen floor and Junmyeon feels his face heat up when Yifan meets his gaze while tickling Zitao’s feet and smirks. He wants to drop kick his thing for men that are good with kids right through the fucking window.

“Help,” Zitao yelps between peals of laughter, “Help me, Mama!”

“Ha, as if he could ever defeat me,” Yifan’s smirk grows wider and wider at the affronted look on Junmyeon’s face. “I’m taller, stronger, and much, much smarter. What’s your precious Mama going to do to stop me?”

It’s Junmyeon’s turn to smirk when he walks over to the pair, very calm, grabs Yifan’s ear and tugs sharply until the demon lets out an irritated growl and lets Zitao go to try and pull his hand away. The little boy scrambles to hide behind Junmyeon’s legs and sticks his tongue out, “Mama kicked your butt, Baba!”

Yifan scoffs and rolls his eyes, only to yelp when Junmyeon tugs on his ear again. Junmyeon’s not sure where this sudden confidence to tease an actual fucking demon has come from, but he hopes it stays for just a bit longer. His mind is trying to reconcile the image he has of Yifan from the night before, an otherworldly creature with powers he can’t even begin to comprehend, with this, a man with a penchant for doing and taking things without asking that is absolutely wonderful with Zitao.

He’s waiting for the fact that Yifan’s a demon, dangerous and powerful and someone not to be trusted, to hit him and suddenly it won’t feel so natural to swat at the demon with his spatula for reaching around his legs to grab at Zitao. Junmyeon’s enjoying the lack of fear though, he’s had more than enough that awful hair-raising feeling to last him for a long, long time. There’s also something immensely satisfying about the shocked look on Yifan’s face when Junmyeon pokes the spatula into his chest only to flick it up and smack him in the nose when he looks down.

Zitao giggles again and hugs Junmyeon’s legs to stop himself from falling over from the force of his laughter. “He got you! He got you! Mama got you!”

“Whatever,” Yifan growls with a frown. His accent is more pronounced the deeper his voice goes and the sound of it does odd things to Junmyeon’s heart rate. “Go eat your breakfast before I decide to retaliate against you mere mortals.” If Junmyeon lightly taps him upside the head with the spatula again, that’s simply an accident.

Zitao gobbles up three pancakes before Junmyeon grabs the plate away and he and Yifan share a look and decide that they’re going to have to keep a close eye on the little boy. It’s his first meal in half a century, so it’s understandable that he’s excited, but that half a century seems to have made him forget the fact that he can only eat so much.

“You’re going to give yourself a tummy ache if you don’t slow down,” Junmyeon tries to reason with his child as Zitao reaches for his plate with grabby hands.

“But I’m hungry,” the little boy whines and pouts. Junmyeon hands the plate over to Yifan to put even more distance between the pint-sized vacuum and his precious pancakes. Junmyeon bites his lip and tries not to let himself give in so easily. God, it’s hard to balance wanting to make your child happy and wanting to keep them safe and healthy.

Yifan, it seems, doesn’t have that issue. He gets up and shoves the plate into the microwave just when Junmyeon is about to give Zitao his pancakes back, just one at a time. The demon is staring somewhere below Junmyeon’s eyes with an odd predatory glint in his eyes. “You just ate three pancakes in the span of ten minutes. Eat any more and you’ll make yourself throw up. You can have more if you’re still hungry when you and Junmyeon come back from the store.”

Like magic, Zitao stops whining forlornly about his pancakes and sits straight up in his chair. He looks from Junmyeon to Yifan as he nearly vibrates out of his skin. “The store? We’re going to the store!?” The little boy grins so wide that Junmyeon’s cheeks ache in sympathy.

Junmyeon still hadn’t planned on when he wanted to go the store, it might not have even been today if Yifan hadn’t forced his hand. He sends the demon a sharp glare that doesn’t earn him much than another damn eyebrow raise. He’s starting to get a little irritated by the way Yifan makes all these decisions for him, regardless of whether they ended well for him or not. When Junmyeon’s frown doesn’t abet, Yifan sighs and leans in close to whisper, “My _friends_ are coming over very soon to drop off the things I’ve asked of them and to catch up. I figured you’d rather that you and Zitao be out of the house when they arrive, but if you’re okay with a bunch of _demons_ coming around you and our child…well, you won’t hear me complaining.”

 _Our_ child? Junmyeon side-eyes Yifan and tries to decide if the odd feeling in his stomach is excitement or disgust. He’s very familiar with the beginnings of anxiety that wrap around his lungs when he thinks of other demons around Zitao. Yifan is one thing; Zitao trusts him, Junmyeon kind of trusts him, and he’s shown himself to have Zitao’s best interests and well-being at the forefront of his mind. Junmyeon wouldn’t be comfortable with unfamiliar humans around his child, let alone unfamiliar demons.

Junmyeon grits his teeth in annoyance at being manipulated and played, but forces the anger down to smile as brightly as he can at Zitao. Junmyeon is not his mother, he’ll never take his anger out on his children. “Yup! Let me go get ready and then we can go to the store. Help Yifan write the grocery list while I’m getting ready, please?” Zitao gives a cheer and grabs a piece of paper and his crayons before scooting his chair closer to Yifan and demanding that chocolate be the first thing written down.

Once he’s hidden himself in his room and left Yifan at Zitao’s sugar-rushed mercy, he pulls his phone out from where he’d stashed it in his waistband – somewhere he’d hoped Yifan wouldn’t go looking for it – and looks through all things he missed while stuck in a demonic ritual. There are a number of missed calls and unanswered texts from Minseok, now under a different nickname courtesy of Zitao, starting with a simple inquiry of how Junmyeon and Zitao fared for the rest of the night and slowly increasing in worry and frequency as they were left unanswered and unread. Minseok’s probably in a panic by now and Junmyeon’s honestly surprised that he hadn’t driven over to check in on them already.

It’s probably better that he hasn’t. Minseok would probably have a heart attack if he knocked and Zitao, or god forbid, Yifan answered the door. Junmyeon decides to leave all of Minseok’s frantic, all-caps messages for when he sees his best friend in person and sends a short, rushed text.

**To: Minsock**

_I’m fine. Meet me at Wal-Mart in 30 min._

He doesn’t wait to see Minseok’s reply before he rushes to get dressed and ready in record time. Junmyeon ends up shouting down the hall once or twice for a toothbrush, toothpaste, and soap for Zitao to be added to the grocery list and laughs when Zitao whines loudly in protest.

Yifan had said that money had been transferred over to Junmyeon’s account – though the man has no idea how the demon has a modern bank account – and he’s more than a little doubtful that there will be enough to get Zitao all the things he’ll need. Junmyeon’s ninety-nine percent sure that they’ll be throwing out the majority of Zitao’s clothes and his bedsheets; Zitao had shrieked about a spider in the closet making webs all over his clothes this morning, and Junmyeon believes that burning the stuff is the only way to make sure the spider is gone for good. Also, the bed sheets are gray and ugly and look like something JiaJia picked out, not Zitao.

Either way, Junmyeon would like to know just how much he’ll be able to spend at the store today without putting himself in financial hell, so he opens his bank’s app on his phone and promptly drops the phone in shock. That’s a lot of zeros. Well, at least he doesn’t have to worry about money anymore.

Junmyeon still feels a little like he’s in shock when he goes back into the kitchen. Zitao already has his shoes on and the grocery list, a rainbow-colored mess that’s going to be absolute hell to decipher at the grocery store, in hand.

Yifan huffs a small laugh at the look on Junmyeon’s face, “Checked your bank account, I presume?”

He just nods silently and gestures for Zitao to take his hand. The little boy rushes to the front door instead and bounces excitedly about going outside the house. Right, Zitao hasn’t left the house in fifty years and has the worst cabin fever ever recorded. Junmyeon unlocks the door and opens it for Zitao to sprint out, but is caught by a hand on his shoulder before he can leave. Yifan’s behind him, watching him with a fond smile.

“I told you,” he murmurs in way that’s almost heart-stoppingly familiar, “I take care of my own. My friends will stay for two hours, maybe a little longer. They’ll be bringing my phone, so if you get done with grocery shopping before then, call me and I’ll make them leave early.” Junmyeon nods, feeling oddly cared for and looked after. For all Yifan’s arrogant bravado, the demon shows nothing but genuine care when he ushers Junmyeon out the front door and points at Zitao, who is running laps around the car. “Look after him. He’s riding high on sugar and the rush of being alive again, but he’s going to crash hard before the day is out.”

With that, the door softly swings shut behind him and Junmyeon is left with a stupid amount of money in his bank account, a little boy that he loves more than air, a demon waiting for him to return, and a grocery list. He takes one deep breath, tries to center himself or whatever meditation crap his therapist tried to teach him years ago, and then gives up and yells, “To the store!” Zitao’s responding cheer is much better for the soul than breathing techniques anyway.


	8. VIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we finally get to meet some more characters! Also, I'm sorry if things seem boring right now, gotta get those characters in here somehow, right? Thank you guys for all your support and kudos and comments! They mean the world to me <3 
> 
> I hope you guys like this chapter and I'll see you all again in two weeks, or in a few minutes if you follow me on Twitter hahaha
> 
> As alllways, a big thank you to Aarushi (AarushiC_18)!

Junmyeon tries to hide the way his hands shake as he ushers Zitao out of the car. The drive had grated on his nerves to an almost torturous degree. He’d been forced to drive slowly because Zitao doesn’t have a car seat and the idea of a car accident makes him physically nauseous. Zitao had been wonderful in the car, too interested in the world he hasn’t truly seen in over fifty years to do anything but stare out his window in absolute awe. In fact, the view Junmyeon has of Zitao’s slack-jawed expression in the rearview mirror is all that keeps him from pulling the car over and settling down into a good, old-fashioned panic attack.

It all hit him at once when he left the cul-de-sac, everything that he’s been through in the past twenty-four hours. He feels like he’s standing on tiptoes, waiting for JiaJia to appear on the side of the road or to wake up still tied up on his living room floor or, most terrifying of all for some unfathomable reason, to wake up on Minseok’s couch and find out that these past few weeks were all some strange fever dream.

There’s also the anxiety churning unpleasantly in his gut about what Minseok will do when he sees Zitao in the flesh, alive and whole; his best friend is his best friend for a reason, but Minseok is still only human and there is a limit to the supernatural phenomena that he can take.

“Mama,” Zitao tugs hard on the sleeve of Junmyeon’s jacket, “Look! Look! It’s Minseok!” Junmyeon just manages to grab Zitao’s hand before the little boy goes sprinting off to give his friend a hug. Sure enough, Minseok is loitering awkwardly outside of the entrance to Wal-Mart, staring down at his phone in boredom and scanning the area for Junmyeon in turns. Zitao pulls Junmyeon along as fast as he can with the man dragging his feet in hesitation. “Let’s go say hi!”

Junmyeon decides that this was an awful idea. He has no idea what he’s going to say, how Minseok is going to react, or if the other man will even believe him. If Minseok doesn’t believe him, or decides that this is something that he just can’t deal with, Junmyeon will be left completely alone trying to navigate his sudden acquisition of a five-year-old little boy and a god only knows how old demon. He’ll be all alone if he doesn’t tell Minseok, though, and he’ll be keeping one hell of a secret from his best friend of twenty-one years.

Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on how he looks at it, Zitao does not share a single one of his reservations. He’s pulling Junmyeon right up to Minseok with a big, open-mouthed grin on his face.

Minseok looks rightfully confused when he sees Junmyeon being pulled along by a little boy dressed in clothes so dated only a skilled archaeologist could pinpoint the exact calendar year they were popular in. His eyebrows furrow together as he tilts his head to the side and sends Junmyeon a questioning look. Zitao, who either doesn’t see the way Minseok doesn’t recognize him or just doesn’t care, wiggles his hand out of Junmyeon’s grasp when they get close to Minseok and wraps the man in the tightest hug his little arms can manage.

Minseok returns the hug with a few soft pats to Zitao’s back but only grows more confused. “Oh – uh, hello? Who might you be?” His voice is light and friendly, but it’s somewhat canceled out by the way he gestures wildly at the little boy attached to him like a koala with his free hand.

Zitao pulls back a bit to smile up at Minseok, though it falters a bit when he notices the man’s look of utter confusion. “It’s me,” he says very matter-of-factly, “Zitao. You told me last night that you were my friend. Why don’t you remember me?”

Junmyeon cringes when Minseok’s mouth falls open in shock. He regards both Zitao and Junmyeon with a very wary expression and tries to gently unwrap the little boy’s arms from around his middle. “Junmyeon,” he says very slowly, like he’s talking to a spooked animal, “Why is this child saying that he’s the ghost boy living in your house?”

“Um, well…because he is?” Junmyeon fidgets nervously with the zipper of his jacket. Minseok’s eyes go impossibly wide and he stares down at Zitao with a mixture of horror and curiosity. Zitao, for his part, nods along enthusiastically to what Junmyeon says.

“ _What did you do_ ,” Minseok’s voice shoots up six octaves as he tries to worm his way out of the hug once more. “I know that Zitao means a lot to you, but that doesn’t mean you had to pull a fucking satanic ritual!” Zitao flinches back at the word ‘ritual’ and lets Minseok go to clutch at Junmyeon instead.

Junmyeon hugs him back tightly for a moment and then moves his hands to cover Zitao’s ears. He’s been through enough this past day, he doesn’t need to hear anything else that could trigger his burgeoning post-traumatic stress disorder. “It wasn’t me, Minseok, I swear. It was his mother. She knocked me unconscious when I was walking back to the house last night and tried to recreate her failed ritual,” Junmyeon feels a bit validated at the way Minseok’s wary expression shifts into one of concern and his gaze flickers to Zitao. “A lot of crazy shit happened, but Yifan managed to subdue her and-”

“Who the hell is Yifan,” Minseok cuts him off mid-sentence. The look on the man’s face says that he already has a pretty good idea about exactly who Yifan is.

“Yifan is my Baba,” Zitao had managed to pull Junmyeon’s hands off his ears just in time to hear Minseok’s question. The man’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline and he chokes on air for a moment. “Well,” Zitao continues, “he didn’t order me from the storks with…um…with _her_ , but he’s my Baba.”

“Yifan was the other spirit,” Junmyeon adds when Minseok doesn’t respond to Zitao’s comment. “He’s not exactly human, but he brought Zitao back and got rid of,” Junmyeon plants his hands over Zitao’s ears again and ignores the little boy’s whine of protest, “he got rid of JiaJia because we made a deal or something.” Junmyeon ignores his memories of JiaJia’s protestations that whatever Yifan had done hadn’t been part of the ritual, that there had been no deal for Junmyeon to cash in on. Yifan saved his life and gave him Zitao, who is Junmyeon to look a gift horse like that in the mouth?

Minseok blinks slowly once, twice, three times. His mouth drops in utter disbelief and he reaches to cover Junmyeon’s hands on Zitao’s ears with his own, “Are you _fucking kidding me_?” Junmyeon flinches, it’s all he can do when faced with Minseok staring at him with an expression he just can’t read. “You- You-,” the man splutters, “what were you thinking? What _are_ you thinking? Zitao is one thing, he’s a very sweet little boy and I know that he loves you dearly, but you can’t just trust a demon! Yeah, he brought Zitao back to life and ‘got rid of’ your would-be murderer, but that only shows how much power he has. And you gave him power over you. He held up his end of the deal, so what’s yours?”

It’s Junmyeon’s turn to sputter ineloquently as he scrambles to come up with a defense. Minseok has him cornered though. He understands, somewhere in his brain, that Yifan bringing Zitao back to life means that the demon is probably capable of anything, it just hadn’t smacked him in the face until now. Minseok’s words also force Junmyeon to face a terrifying prospect that hadn’t crossed his mind for even a passing second, the thought that Yifan’s dangling a deal over his head, a big one. Yifan gave him three demands, none of which were small, and he’s going to have to pay for it however the man wants him to.

“I never said that he was a de-” Junmyeon’s weak rebuttal peters to stop at the highly unamused expression on Minseok’s face. His face twists in sadness as the sudden weight of the deal lands on his shoulders. He’d thought that he’d be perfectly fine once he adjusted to Yifan’s presence, but now even the thought of returning home sends sharp tingles of worry through his body. “Look, I... I was scared. I was so scared, Minseok. She had a knife and she kept saying these awful things to Zitao, things like how she was going to kill me. She threatened to cut off my fingers and feed them to him for fuck’s sake!”

The color drains out of Minseok’s face and his gaze drops down to where Zitao is trying to pry their combined hands off his ears with little success. Junmyeon feels a hollow kind of satisfaction when understanding blooms in his best friend’s eyes. Minseok probably doesn’t think he’s a moron anymore, but the flashbacks of JiaJia and the knife and being so scared he could barely breathe make him want to jump in the car and speed the whole way home. There’s still anxiety clawing at his gut about what he may have to do to uphold his end of the deal, but a primitive, instinctual part of him knows that Yifan means safety. It’s highly disconcerting and comforting at the same time.

Junmyeon sighs and removes his hands from Zitao’s ears to scrub tiredly at his face, “I know I’m not thinking straight, but Yifan saved my life. He’s known me for less than a month and he saved my life without asking me for anything. And, he’s getting Zitao documents for school and being a legal citizen, he gave me money to buy groceries and anything else we need, and he wrote me a grocery list because he thinks I eat like a child. I don’t know if I trust him, but I don’t… _not_ trust him.”

Minseok goes through an odd series of facial expressions ranging from disbelief to thinly-veiled anger until he settles at something kind of resignation. “Fine! Have it your way,” he huffs and puffs out his cheeks in resigned annoyance. “He,” Minseok tugs gently on the little boy’s ear until he giggles and tries to swat the man’s hand away, “is the only reason I’m not exorcising you and your entire house.”

“Ew, I don’t like exercise, Minnie. Do we have to?” Zitao lets out a whine and pouts pathetically at both adults until Junmyeon swings him up into his arms to hush him. Minseok’s face softens into something that doesn’t make Junmyeon feel like his best friend is teetering on the edge of throwing him in the looney bin. Zitao gives Junmyeon one of the loud, slobbery, gross kisses that only children and dogs can give. “Baba doesn’t like exercise neither. Says it makes him all sweaty and icky.” There’s something in the way that Zitao talks about Yifan that makes the demon sound harmless, even to Junmyeon who has seen a fraction of what Yifan can do, and Junmyeon can see the exact moment Minseok caves to it.

He cracks a smile and lets out a little giggle when Zitao tries to imitate Yifan despite his childish voice being unable to reach the demon’s impressively low pitch. Then Minseok’s brow furrows and he tries to paint on a more serious expression, but Junmyeon can see that he’s already lost his anger. Zitao giggles something about Minseok looking like an angry kitty cat and the man’s cheeks redden almost immediately, which sends him trudging off to find a cart to hide his embarrassment.

 Junmyeon still feels tense, like Minseok is going to whirl around any second and start lecturing him about just how stupid he is and how much danger he could be in, but it’s almost like an afterthought compared to the contentment he feels holding Zitao close and listening

“Well, Yifan is going to do some exercise today,” Junmyeon follows after Minseok, Zitao still balanced on his hip and resting his little head on Junmyeon’s shoulder. He perks up at the mention of Yifan and exercise with a questioning tilt of his head. “Mhmm,” Junmyeon continues, “I’m not going to be able to carry all the bags inside when we get home all by myself. We’ve got to get everything on your grocery list, and we need to buy you some new clothes, toiletries, and toys.”

“ _Toys_ ,” Zitao bounces so hard in his arms that Junmyeon almost drops him, “I get new toys?! Thank you thank you thank you!” The little boy wraps his arms around Junmyeon’s neck for dear life and giggles with joy. Junmyeon feels himself relax at the bright smile on his child’s face. “Minnie,” he calls when the man turns back to them with a shopping cart, “I get toys!” Minseok’s mouth quirks up into a half-smile and he shoots Zitao a thumbs-up before pushing the cart over close enough for Junmyeon to settle Zitao in the front seat.

Neither of them are prepared for the Zitao’s terrified squeak or the way he clutches almost painfully at Junmyeon’s neck. Zitao wraps his whole body around Junmyeon as much as he’s able and buries his face in the crook of the man’s neck. “No, no, no! Don’t put me down, Mama!” Junmyeon tries to calm him down, but Zitao just shakes his head and tightens his grip.

“I’m going to be pushing the cart, Zitao. I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

“No!”

Junmyeon almost regrets picking Zitao up now, because he has the distinct feeling that he wouldn’t be having this problem if he hadn’t let Zitao get comfortable in his arms. It is a little heart-warming to know that Zitao feels safe in his hold, though. He shoots Minseok a look of distress, but the other man just shrugs in confusion and pity. “Sweetheart,” Junmyeon murmurs into his temple as softly as he can, “how will you be able to pick out all the things you want if you can’t reach for them?”

“You’ll help me. You always help me, Mama.” Junmyeon is floored by the certainty in his son’s voice. To Zitao, Junmyeon being there to help him is a given, a certainty just like the sun rising in the morning and setting in the evening. “I just want you to hold me. Please,” Zitao’s voice wobbles as he speaks and Junmyeon caves and hitches him up a little higher.

His arms are already aching slightly, unused to Zitao’s weight, but goddamn he can’t say no to that sweet little face. Junmyeon studies Zitao’s expression for a moment and realizes that the little boy’s wide eyes are a product of fear, not curiosity. Yifan’s prediction about Zitao crashing is coming true in real time and Junmyeon feels helpless as he watches reality start to weight down on his five-year-old.

The world around Zitao is new and strange, but not in a good way. Fifty years have gone by and Zitao wasn’t around to see it, and so he stepped out into a world entirely unlike the one he’d expected to see. While a Wal-Mart supercenter is an everyday occurrence to Minseok and Junmyeon, Zitao’s probably never seen anything like it in his whole life, probably never even imagined it.

Junmyeon notices that there is no fear in Zitao’s eyes when he looks at Minseok, but that’s because he knows Minseok, albeit only for a night. They drew pictures together, they’re friends. The rest of the world is potentially dangerous and impossible for Zitao to navigate. Junmyeon is the only place he feels truly safe because that’s his Mama, and Mama will always be there to protect him.

“Yes, of course I’ll hold you. I’m sorry I tried to put you down,” Junmyeon blinks back his own tears at the sudden exhaustion on Zitao’s face and presses a kiss to the little boy’s temple. “Let’s get your stuff first, okay? I think I saw some panda pajamas last time I came here. Do you want to see if we can find them?” A little bit of energy returns to Zitao and he gives Junmyeon a little smile. That little smile is all he needs to wave for Minseok to follow them with the cart and head into the store with nothing but the need to keep Zitao smiling on his mind.

Zitao does indeed love the panda pajamas, just like he loves almost everything Junmyeon shows him. Junmyeon knows that he has more than enough money to buy Zitao any and all clothes that the little boy may desire, but he’s very selective in what he puts in the cart. Zitao is adjusting to the present and Junmyeon is very wary about exposing him to too much newness all at once. The clothes Zitao has at home, while outdated, are familiar and safe. Getting new things makes Zitao smile, but processing all the information and stimuli wears him out.

“Is he okay,” Minseok whispers when Zitao starts to fall asleep on their way to the toy aisles after grabbing strawberry shampoo and soap, a firetruck red toothbrush, sparkly toothpaste, and one obnoxiously large and fluffy towel that Zitao whined for until all of it got thrown into the cart, “He was having a great time when you guys showed up but now he looks like he’s going to pass out any minute now.”

“Yifan- Don’t make that face, Minseok, you’re acting like I just told you that you’re due for a flu shot.” Junmyeon doesn’t miss the way that his best friend’s face wrinkles in unhappiness at the demon’s name. Both of them know that Minseok, while not actively arguing against the whole situation, would still be making pointed jabs about his opinion towards Junmyeon’s decision to let a demon stay in his house and the deal hanging over his head if it weren’t for Zitao.

“Yifan told me to keep an eye on him today. He said that Zitao was probably going to crash soon. He’s excited to be alive and all, but he’s also a traumatized little boy who’s now having to reconcile the world as it was when he died with the world he now lives in. It’s a lot to take in for anyone, especially a child.”

Minseok makes a soft noise of understanding and makes an even softer face at Zitao, who stirs a little at his name being mentioned. Junmyeon rubs at his back until he falls back into an odd kind of half-sleep. Junmyeon’s phone says that they’ve only been out of the house for an hour, but even that appears to be too long for Zitao. His phone also has a text from an unknown number.

**From: XXX-XXXX**

_This is Yifan. Call or text if you need anything._

Junmyeon quickly enters the contact into his phone and shoves it back into his pocket as gently as he can so as not to rouse the child drooling on his shoulder. He hopes that Zitao stays asleep long enough for them to get back home. Zitao was so excited about getting new toys, but the toys of today are far more high-tech than anything he might have had. All the beeps and moving parts and lights could be over-stimulating for someone used to stuffed animals, blocks, toy cars, and one giant inflatable ball.

Minseok clears his throat as they bypass the toys aisles and head straight for the food, “That was him, wasn’t it? Yifan?” Junmyeon hums and nods, a little unsure of where Minseok is going with this. “He really does care about you two, doesn’t he?”

“I think he does, Minseok, I really think he does,” Junmyeon breathes out. “I don’t know him well, or at all, but Zitao spent fifty years alone with him and loves him dearly. I don’t know much Mandarin, but I do know that ‘Baba’ means ‘father’.”

“Baba,” Zitao whimpers softly. Junmyeon looks down and sees that the little boy is awake and looking decidedly weepy. “I want Baba. Where is he, Mama?” Minseok watches Zitao sniffle pitifully, a look of realization dawning on his face before he turns away to push the cart a little faster with a nod of determination.

“Just have to get groceries and then you can go home to your dad,” Minseok pushes the cart faster and faster until Junmyeon is forced to jog to keep up. Zitao whimpers for Yifan again and Junmyeon feels a wetness spread on his shoulder, tears, probably. “Can you read the grocery list for me, please? Or do you want me or Mama to read it?”

Zitao shakes his head and gently jabs a finger into Junmyeon’s chest. The man catches his hand and blows a raspberry into his palm until Zitao lets out a soft giggle. “I looked at the list before we came in,” Junmyeon pulls the aforementioned list out of his pocket with a flourish solely for Zitao’s benefit, “it looks like Yifan wrote down a few things in Chinese. I can’t read Chinese; will you help me?” Zitao’s eyes are still watery and he sniffles every few seconds or so, but he looks a little excited at the prospect of showing Junmyeon how good he is at reading Mandarin.

“I wrote that,” he points to a pair of characters, “it means milk.”

 Junmyeon coos and rains kisses upon Zitao’s head in praise, “That’s my smart boy!” Zitao smiles for a moment, then his face crumbles and he turns his head to bury his sniffles in Junmyeon’s shoulder. “Oh, honey, what’s wrong,” Junmyeon bounces him and tries to calm him back down with a hand smoothing his hair and kisses on his forehead, but it’s useless.

Zitao sobs, thick and devastated, and Junmyeon has to blink back his own tears because the sound makes his heart twist painfully in his chest. “B-baba helped me wr-write it. I wanna go home. I m-miss Baba,” Zitao hiccups through his words so hard that Junmyeon can barely understand him. No amount of shushing or cuddles manage to cheer Zitao up in the slightest; the little boy just sobs inconsolably and whines for Yifan.

“Do you really need this food today?” Junmyeon jumps at the sound of Minseok’s voice in his ear. The other man is watching Zitao with a frown, hands twitching at his sides like he wants to take Zitao out of Junmyeon’s arms and hold him. “If Yifan,” Zitao sobs louder at his father’s name and Minseok winces, “wants all this stuff, tell him that it can wait until tomorrow.”

Junmyeon can’t agree more. He nods once before hiking Zitao up a little higher so that he can whisper into his ear, “We’re going to go home, okay? We’re going to go home right now. All we have to do is pay for our stuff and then we can go home. Does that sound good?”

“Yeah...” Zitao’s sobs peter off as Minseok steers the cart towards the checkout. Junmyeon makes up a tune to hum, the soft vibrations slowly bringing Zitao back down to just tired and weepy instead of sobbing and inconsolable. Every adult they come across makes soft noises of pity when they see Zitao’s tear-streaked face and Junmyeon feels out of his element when they look at him with looks of sympathy and suspicion in turn. It’s all he can do to just keep bouncing Zitao in his arms and murmuring reassuring nonsense in the little boy’s ear.

Thank god for Minseok. His best friend takes care of loading everything into the conveyer belt and talking to the cashier. Zitao looks over all his new stuff and a frown pulls at the corners of his mouth. “Will Baba be mad that we didn’t get everything? He wanted to cook dinner tonight and we didn’t buy any food.”

“Zitao, trust me, Yifan cares more about you than whatever dinner he wanted to make.” Junmyeon grabs a chocolate bar out of the small wall of candy and throws it onto the conveyer belt alongside the panda pajamas. “Look,” he nudges Zitao and points to the chocolate bar with a pleased grin, “we did buy food!”

The smile on Zitao’s face warms Junmyeon from the inside out. His little boy is still obviously sad, and any mention of Yifan or going home is enough to send a few more tears leaking out of his eyes, but Junmyeon’s silly little joke sends him into a fit of giggles. He’ll make as many stupid jokes as he can if it means that the frown disappears. “Mama,” he leans up to kiss Junmyeon’s cheek, “candy isn’t food!”

“Oh, so should I just put your chocolate bar back?”

“No! I wanna eat it. Pretty please?” Junmyeon, weak as he is, just smiles and leans Zitao forward so that the cashier can hand Zitao the candy bar. “Thank you, Mama,” the little boy nuzzles close as he he can with a small, private smile, “I’m gonna share it with Baba.”

Minseok helps them wheel all the bags out to the car and load them into the trunk, making faces at Zitao in the backseat through the rear window each time he comes up to grab more bags. Zitao’s crying quietly again now that he’s not in Junmyeon’s arms, curled up in the backseat with the chocolate bar clutched tight in his little hands.

“Poor baby,” Minseok sighs as he slams the trunk shut, “He’s so sad.” Junmyeon hums in agreement. His heart fills up with lead every time he looks over and sees Zitao leaning against the window, staring out aimlessly with disinterest. “I can see why he won you over so fast,” there’s a mocking smirk on Minseok’s face when Junmyeon looks away from where he’d been watching Zitao. “If I’d been able to see him when I came over last night, I think I would have caved the moment I walked in. It’s the smile, brightens up the whole room. Call me later, let me know that you’re both alright, okay?”

“Of course,” Junmyeon grabs Minseok before the man can take off with the cart and pulls him into the tightest hug he can manage. “Thank you for everything. You didn’t have to – you _shouldn’t_ have – but you not abandoning me means everything. I don’t know what’s going to happen from here, but I don’t think that I can do it without you.” Oddly enough, he’s not scared. He should be, he really should be, but he knows that Minseok will be with him every step of the way, knows that he’s never going to be alone with Zitao following him around like a small, squeaky shadow.

Minseok hugs him back even tighter, small tremors running through the other man’s frame. “If you and Zitao ever need a place to stay,” Minseok stops to sniffle for a moment and try to clear the thickness from his voice, “and I mean _ever_ , you two are welcome at my apartment. I don’t trust Yifan, and I don’t care what you say, I don’t trust him. But you and Zitao…you’ve always got somewhere to go if you need it.” It’s exactly what he needed to hear. The tension leaks out of both of their bodies when Junmyeon nods and mumbles an affirmation. They separate after a moment, and Junmyeon’s eyes feel decidedly wet, though Minseok doesn’t look much better. His best friend raps on the back window and waves Zitao goodbye, smiling wide when Zitao waves back with the hand not clutched tight to the chocolate bar and wiping at his eyes.

The drive home is much shorter than the drive to the store. Junmyeon tells Zitao to buckle up and then floors it. Thankfully, there’s some little league soccer game going on at the park, so the streets are empty and no one’s there to see a kindergarten teacher go sixty miles an hour down the main road. It’s not safe in the slightest, but it’s fun and a means to an end. Zitao doesn’t even notice how fast they’re going, too preoccupied with his own thoughts.

He lights up when they turn the corner into their empty cul-de-sac, however. Junmyeon, who is still blinking tears out of his own eyes, feels himself brighten at the way Zitao shoots up in his seat and presses his face to the window with an impossibly wide smile. Then Junmyeon’s stomach drops to his feet because there are two cars outside of his house.

He forgot about Yifan’s friends, the other demons that are currently in his house. Yifan had explicitly told him that they’d be at the house for at least two hours, to text him when he was coming home so that the demons wouldn’t be there. Junmyeon tries to quell the panic rising in his throat. He can’t let these demons around Zitao; he won’t let anything happen to his son. He also can’t turn around because Zitao has burst into tears again the back seat, “Baba!”

Junmyeon pulls into the driveway with terror crawling up his spine. Zitao doesn’t move when the car parks, too overwhelmed to do anything than hiccup and cry. Junmyeon doesn’t want to go inside. God, he doesn’t want to go inside. Yifan is one thing, he’s safe, but Junmyeon does not, _cannot_ , trust the others. Lord help him, though, he’s a parent now and Zitao needs him to get him to Yifan. Junmyeon steels his jaw and forces himself out of the car before he can rethink his own bad decisions and snatches Zitao out of the backseat.

“Come on, let’s go get Yifan.” Junmyeon dashes up to the door, but it opens before he can even grab the right key. There’s a man standing in the doorway, light brown hair hanging in his big doe eyes. He’s pretty, handsome in an ethereal way, but some quiet part of Junmyeon whispers that Yifan is much, much more handsome. The pretty man is glaring at him distrustfully, and his nose scrunches up in distaste when Zitao hiccups and rubs at his snotty nose on Junmyeon’s shoulder. “Move please,” Junmyeon says sickly sweet, “I need to talk to Yifan.”

Pretty boy leans in the doorway and scoffs, “I didn’t think he’d have beggars this soon. What are you asking for? Wait, don’t tell me, it’s more fun to hear what you’re going to offer for it more.” Doe eyes trail up and down Junmyeon’s body and he feels vaguely sick. He doesn’t know what kind of _friends_ Yifan has, but this one is never allowed in his house again. “If you were hoping to seduce him, you’re two weeks too late. He’s tied down now, got a mate and kid and everything. I, however, could be swayed, though you’d have to ditch the kid.”

Junmyeon’s body tenses, grip tightening on Zitao. The little boy senses the tension and cries, “Baba!” There’s a crash and suddenly Yifan appears behind the man in the doorway, eyes wide as he takes in Junmyeon’s look of discomfort and Zitao crying uncontrollably.

“ _Move,_ Luhan,” he growls and shoves the man, who lets out a loud yelp of surprise, into the wall. Junmyeon finds himself being pulled through the threshold and into Yifan’s arms. “Are you okay? Come here, Zitao, let me hold you.” Zitao nearly lunges into Yifan’s chest and the demon wraps a long arm around Junmyeon’s back to hold them both close. “Baba’s here, it’s okay. I shouldn’t have let you go out without me, huh? Sorry, Junmyeon, I had a pretty good idea that this would happen. Are you alright, both of you?”

Junmyeon nearly melts into Yifan’s chest, safety pulsing through him in waves. He nods, “We’re fine, Zitao just got a little sad.” Yifan makes some kind of purr, loud enough the Junmyeon can feel his chest vibrating against his face. It’s peaceful, peaceful enough for him to forget that he doesn’t really trust Yifan just relax and nuzzle closer. The demon pauses for a moment before resuming the rumble and slowly tangling his fingers in Junmyeon’s hair. Zitao’s sobs have subsided completely, making way for contented sighs. Junmyeon holds a hand up for Zitao to grab with his own smaller one and the sensation of being held so securely with his son safe by his side feels like a drug.

A gasp snaps him out of his reverie and he’s suddenly reminded of Luhan standing right next to them. The doe-eyed demon is staring at them with a mixture of shock and terror. “Oh fuck,” he breathes, “it’s you.” Yifan’s chest tenses under Junmyeon’s cheek, and he’s not sure what either men are acting strange about, but another voice is interjecting before he can question them.

“I believe that it is time we take our leave, don’t you think, Luhan?” Another man steps out from the living room. He can’t be much taller than Junmyeon, probably the same height as Luhan, but the suit he’s wearing makes him more imposing and Junmyeon finds himself curling closer into Yifan’s chest, what some odd part of him has deemed as a safe place. Thankfully, the demon doesn’t seem to mind, though he does pull his hand out Junmyeon’s hair – they’re going to have to talk about that later.

The man approaching them has a naturally approachable face, handsome – not as handsome as Yifan, a tiny part of him whispers again – and the friendly smile he’s wearing makes him seem even more open, but Junmyeon knows that there’s something not quite right about that smile.

He steps close enough, eyebrow twitching up when Junmyeon unconsciously shifts even further into Yifan’s chest, to extend a hand, “I am Zhang Yixing and you must be Kim Junmyeon, a pleasure to meet you.” Junmyeon shakes Yixing’s hand robotically, mind trying to process everything at once when something suddenly hits him.

“You’re Baekhyun’s husband, aren’t you? The creepy guy who calls people ‘mortals’? How’s Mongryeong?” Yixing smile changes into something much more genuine and the man laughs.

“You’re smart, I appreciate that. Mongryeong is doing fine, thank you for asking. Tell your friend Minseok that he needs to be more careful with patient confidentiality. I don’t like having my private business spread around, but I’ll let it slide this once. He’s lucky it was you that he ran his mouth to and not another, or there would have been some rather unpleasant consequences.” There it is, something dark and dangerous lurking behind Yixing’s eyes. It sends something unpleasant shivering down Junmyeon’s spine. His heart kicks into high gear and he decides that he does not like Yifan’s friends in the slightest.

Yifan steps away from him, leaving Junmyeon feeling uncomfortably exposed, to turn and meet Yixing’s eyes. There’s something palpably tense in their eye contact until Yixing breaks and looks off to the side with a hint of irritation coloring his face. “You will let it slide every time, Yixing. Do not threaten him or his loved ones.” Yixing spits something in Mandarin and Junmyeon suddenly finds himself with arms full of Zitao as Yifan gets right up in the other demon’s face to snarl something back.

“Don’t worry,” Luhan nearly makes Junmyeon jump out his skin when the pretty man steps up close to whisper conspiratorially in his ear, “Yifan’s just telling him that it’s not okay for him to tease you like that. Yixing likes to pretend that he’s big and tough, but he wouldn’t touch a hair on, um, Minseok’s head. Baekhyun loves your friend, so he’s one of the safest people on the planet.” Junmyeon just nods and moves away, closer to Yifan, because he doesn’t trust Luhan either.

“You two,” Yifan lapses back into English and gestures to Yixing and Luhan, “go bring in all the bags in Junmyeon’s trunk for him. You owe him that for all the distress you’ve caused.”

The pair of demons grumble about being bossed around, but Luhan sprints for the car when Zitao fixes them with a shy smile, “Thank you for helping Mama!” Yifan grins a wicked grin and gently pulls Zitao back into his arms to praise him for being so sweet. “Mama deserves all the help in the whole world,” Zitao yawns and makes grabby hands for Junmyeon. “I’m tired, Mama, naptime.”

“You don’t want me for naptime,” Yifan asks in a mock hurt voice. There’s no unhappiness on his face though, and Junmyeon can tell it’s all for show. It’s so odd, how an unimaginably powerful demon, one who he just watched snarl like an animal at another demon, can be so soft for a five-year-old.

“I like Mama naps, he’s comfy to sleep on.” There’s a little burst of pride in Junmyeon’s chest. It’s not the most significant thing in the world, but being Zitao’s preferred naptime buddy makes him glow with happiness.

Yifan chuckles and shrugs as he nudges open the door to Junmyeon’s room. He tugs Zitao’s socks and shoes off before settling him down on the bed with a kiss to his forehead. “Well then, how about Mama takes a nap with you and I’ll make sure Luhan and Yixing get everything put away in the right spots, okay?”

Zitao nods and makes sleepy grabby hands at Junmyeon again, “Okay. We didn’t get food though. I got too sad and Mama said that I’m more important than the food.” Junmyeon nods when Yifan looks to him for confirmation.

“Well,” the demon says with a soft, soft smile, “Mama was right. Taking care of you is the most important thing, always has been and always will be. Now, it’s time for you to take a nap, so I’ll give you and Mama some space. I’ll see you when you wake up, TaoTao.”

Junmyeon lays down next to Zitao, shoving down the odd feelings in his chest at watching Yifan be so good and sweet and soft with his son, and lets the little boy get comfortable snuggled up close to his chest. “I’ll be out as soon as he falls asleep,” he yawns, suddenly exhausted beyond belief, as he watches Yifan start to close the door, “I don’t want those two running loose in my house.” The tall man smiles at him so fondly that it warms him from his head to his toes, though he doesn’t know why, and Junmyeon contemplates asking him to stay for just a little bit. Yifan is so warm and probably wouldn’t mind curling up with him for just a moment. By the time he makes up his mind, he’s already halfway to sleeping, which is probably why he decides that he wants Yifan there with him, and doesn’t notice his own mouth moving or the mattress shifting and warmth curling around his back.

“As you wish, darling,” is rumbled softly against his ear, and then he’s gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! If you did, I would love it if you were so kind as to leave a kudos and a comment or come talk to me at on [ Twitter. ](https://twitter.com/killmeDO) I also opened up a [ Curious Cat ](https://curiouscat.me/killmeDO) please come ask questions about the story or anything else! (I love talking to you guys and I would love to hear what you think of this story!)


	9. IX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't realize this chapter is so much shorter than the others...oops. Also...we hit 500 kudos!! Thank you guys so much for all the support, it means the world to me! Also I apologize for not replying to comments last chapter, I've been really busy and replying to comments has to come after homework and studying. But I still read and cherish every one!
> 
> As aaalways, thank you Aarushi! (AarushiC_18) for being my beta and dealing with my sudden explosions of fic ideas and plot holes!

Junmyeon wakes up wondering if he left the television on. He’s done that before, let one of Zitao’s movies play while he slips off to sleep, but he doesn’t remember adding any Chinese movies to his Netflix. Furthermore, he knows for a fact that he would never let his five-year-old watch something with people yelling so angrily. Zitao got nervous watching Anna and Elsa argue; the loud and vicious shouting Junmyeon’s hearing now would scare the boy to tears. Maybe Yifan put something on in the living room – except the living room TV is from the sixties and isn’t even connected to an outlet.

Junmyeon cracks an eye open, grateful to see that his curtains are closed so the afternoon sunlight doesn’t blind him. It also means that the sunlight won’t wake Zitao, who is sleeping starfished on his back. Junmyeon can’t help his smile and wiggles closer to kiss the little boy’s temple and tuck the blankets in around him. His heart skips a beat when Zitao sighs and smiles in his sleep before burrowing deeper into his cocoon.

The sight makes Junmyeon a little jealous; more sleep sounds wonderful and the clock on the nightstand says that they haven’t been asleep for much longer than an hour. He settles himself back down on the pillow and tries to get comfortable, but he’s pulled back from the precipice of sleep and wakefulness by the increasingly loud shouting from the kitchen. Yifan and his friends are too loud for people who know that there is a five-year-old napping just a little way down the hallway. Junmyeon contemplates shouting at them to pipe down, but that’d probably wake Zitao up instead.

He’ll just go tell them to be quiet, and then he’ll crawl back into bed for another hour. He stumbles out of the room, yawning so hard he has to lean on the doorway for support. The shouting is even louder without the door to buffer the sound, loud enough that Junmyeon flinches and shuts the door behind him as fast as he can to avoid waking Zitao. He likes to think that he’s a very even-tempered person, but he’s emotionally drained from all the demons and ghosts and suddenly becoming a parent to a very energetic five-year-old boy.

Luhan and Yixing have, in Junmyeon’s opinion, overstayed their welcome for this visit. Whatever the demons are arguing about can wait for another day, preferably one where he’s not there to have to interact with them.

Still a little sleep-addled, Junmyeon is heavy-footed on his way to the kitchen. The warning thud of his footsteps are lost as the argument in the kitchen comes to a head. Yifan snarls, feral and laced with a kind of darkness that Junmyeon’s only ever experienced after a nightmare, when his brain can’t decipher between real and imaginary and his entire body is alive with terror. Then the demon slams his hand down onto the dining table to punctuate his statement, the sharp crack of it forcing some sort of high-pitched noise out of Junmyeon’s throat.

Yifan’s head snaps around at the sound and suddenly Junmyeon wishes he’d just stayed in bed. There is nothing overtly demonic about him, no unnatural twist to his face or unearthly glow or color in his eyes. Yifan looks like one of the creatures that come into mind when an author says that the creature just didn’t look right. It’s the lingering inhumanity in the sharp downward curl of his mouth, the power pacing like a tiger in a cage behind his eyes. Outside of Junmyeon’s tunnel vision, a part of him registers the way that Luhan’s eyes are flashing red, how the tips of elongated canines peak out from Yixing’s upper lip, and tendrils of fear wrap icy fingers around his spine. Yifan, though, Junmyeon’s not scared of Yifan. That baser, impulsive part of him is certain that he’s safer right here right now than he could ever be.

“Junmyeon.” Something shifts, and suddenly Yifan is simply Yifan again. The anger drains out of his face and he lurches forward, one hand reaching out for Junmyeon. It doesn’t even surprise Junmyeon when his body leans toward the demon, going easily when Yifan gently pushes him all the way into the kitchen with a hand on his back. His eyes drink in the tired lines of Junmyeon’s face, the way his eyes are cloudy from being woken up prematurely, and so his voice is almost unbearably soft when he asks, “You’re exhausted, why are you awake?”

It takes Junmyeon more than a few seconds before his brain catches up with the world around him and he’s able to process Yifan’s question. It doesn’t help that hand between his shoulder blades is rubbing soft, soothing circles that make him want to press his face into Yifan’s shoulder and go right back to sleep. Yifan would let him, probably. “You three are yelling loud enough to wake the dead.”

“Well, Zitao isn’t awake, so I’m guessing that’s not entirely true. Wouldn’t Zitao be considered the undead now, though?” Luhan’s eyes are no longer flashing red, though small crimson flecks do appear when the lights hits them in a certain perfect way. He has a self-satisfied smirk on his face and Junmyeon can’t tell if it’s ill-intentioned or not. Still, Zitao’s death and subsequent resurrection is a fresh wound, one that throbs and reopens at the slightest touch and Luhan just ripped it open and poured salt all over it.

Yifan whirls back around, teeth flashing and Junmyeon’s almost certain that his canines are much longer than they were just a few second ago. “ _Watch your fucking mouth_.” The growl in Yifan’s throat trails off into a stunned silence as Junmyeon finds himself inches away from Luhan’s face and hissing out words he hadn’t planned to say. He doesn’t remember crossing the kitchen or backing Luhan into the wall, and now that he’s staring the demon in the eye he hates himself for it. Luhan’s jaw drops in shock before he composes himself and pins Junmyeon with a bone-chilling glare.

Junmyeon is pulled backwards, out of Luhan’s reach, by Yifan’s hand wrapped gently around his bicep. The demon looks like he’s fighting down a smile, but he can’t hide the flicker of something like pride in his eyes.

“That was rather uncalled for, Luhan,” Yixing is watching the whole scene with an odd air of disinterest from where he is leaning against the refrigerator. The disinterest could also be focused on the obnoxious rainbow striped bedsheets he’s passing from hand to hand. Junmyeon recognizes them as the ones Zitao picked out and he’s bit confused as to how Yixing managed to get his hands on him. Then he notices that there’s a pile of Wal-Mart bags at his feet, and even larger one at Luhan’s. “I understand that your pride is smarting from being blown off twice in two days, but don’t take your anger out on a child.”

Luhan settles back against the wall with huff of air, looking more like a disgruntled teenager than a hideously powerful demon. “It was a fucking joke,” he never once takes his narrowed eyes off Junmyeon, “Not my fault that Yifan’s human is so sensitive. How do you expect him to be of any help when they com-” The hand on Junmyeon’s arm tightens and he can hear Yifan growl from somewhere deep in his chest.

Yixing appears beside Luhan, the edges of him blurring in way that makes Junmyeon’s eyes water and ache. “I believe it is time for us to go; we’ve overstayed our welcome.” Luhan opens his mouth to protest, but Yixing is already bowing his head and shoving the other demon forward. Luhan hisses something to Yixing in Mandarin and is rewarded with another, harder shove that nearly takes him off his feet.

Yifan follows them out of the kitchen, hand trailing softly down Junmyeon’s arm as he moves. He stops short at the entryway and turns around with one hand motioning down the hallway to Junmyeon’s bedroom. “If you’re still tired, you can go back to sleep. I promise I won’t have any more demons over while you’re sleeping,” Yifan attempts to joke, but Junmyeon can’t bring himself to smile. Luhan’s joke has soured his already poor mood and all he wants to do is check on Zitao and go back to sleep.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know Luhan was going to act like that. He can be a bit…thoughtless at times, but he usually knows when to draw the line. I’ll go over to one of their houses next time or just ask Baekhyun to come by instead.” Yifan’s hands twitch at his sides like he’s restraining himself from reaching for Junmyeon, though Junmyeon doesn’t know why he’s restraining himself now and not the innumerable other times. The human also wonders when exactly he stopped being bothered by the demon’s constant touch.

Still, Junmyeon doesn’t reply and just watches as Yifan stares helplessly before mumbling something about coming right back and following Yixing and Luhan to the front door. The desperation in Yifan’s eyes sting a little, and Junmyeon takes a few cautious steps after him to…accept his apology? Tell him that he’s going back to sleep? He’s not sure why he’s trailing after Yifan, but leaving the matter unfinished and hanging in the air settles uncomfortable and wrong in his chest.

Luhan notices him peeking into the hallway and winks conspiratorially, waving for him to come closer with one hand. Yixing and Yifan are whispering back and forth much too quiet and much too fast for Junmyeon to hear, and Yixing’s face is uncomfortably serious. Luhan steps to the side just enough to hide Junmyeon from Yixing’s view and clears his throat, “They’ve likely noticed by now that the seals were broken, so I’m going to have Chanyeol keep an eye out for any suspicious activity.”

Yixing raises an eyebrow at the rapid shift to English, but doesn’t call Luhan out on it. Junmyeon’s grateful, though more than a little confused. He’s only heard about the non-animal seals when it comes to letters or the odd _Supernatural_ episode Minseok talked him into, and the demonic seals always showed up as big, bloody things on the wall; Junmyeon would like to think that he’d have noticed if there was one anywhere in his house. He is not too pleased about this Chanyeol person watching his house. There are too many demons in his life already.

“I contacted Jackson and Mark about coming by to set up protective measures,” Yixing adds as he slips on his shoes, “They’re more than happy to help, but they’ll need blood from you, Junmyeon, Zitao, and anyone that will be in and out of the house on a regular basis. They’ll also need at least a month before they can set it all up. Jaebum, you remember him, right?” At Yifan’s nod, he continues, “Apparently, he found his human in Mark’s friend Jinyoung and it isn’t going well so Mark is trying to smooth things along the best he can.”

Yifan nods with a hum. “That’s fine, I’ll try to keep Junmyeon and Zitao in the house as much as possible. I don’t think that they’ll come sniffing around here for a while; it took them months to get everything organized the first time, and that was back when they were at the top of their game.”

Junmyeon feels like they’re talking in riddles, playing the pronoun game and sending his mind whirring. He begins to start down the hallway, getting answers the most important thing in his mind, when a noise comes from down the hall. “Mama?” Junmyeon and Yifan whirl around at Zitao’s cry. He forgets everything, every priority, thought, and sensation, because his baby sounds so scared.

He’s down the hall and standing in his bedroom doorway before his brain even registers that he’s moving. Zitao is sitting up in bed with his blankets still draped over his shoulders and big, fat tears rolling down his face. He holds his arms out and whimpers when he realizes that Junmyeon’s there, and Junmyeon can’t help himself from rushing over to gather the little boy in his arms. “Zitao, I’m right here, you don’t have to be scared.” Zitao clings to Junmyeon like a koala, hiccupping through sobs as he’s soothed.

It takes a long time, long enough that Yifan is standing awkwardly at Junmyeon’s side and petting over Zitao’s hair as they both attempt to shush him, but Zitao finally calms down to the beat of Junmyeon bouncing him in his arms. The shoulder of his shirt is sufficiently soaked through with tears and snot, but it’s more than worth it for the comfort Zitao takes from being held. Junmyeon nearly drops Zitao, arms spasming in fear, when Yifan steps closer and places a warm hand on the small of his back as the demon leans in and kisses the crown of Zitao’s head.

“What’s wrong,” he murmurs just loud enough for Junmyeon to hear, “Did you get scared when you woke up alone again?” Zitao vigorously shakes his head, scrubbing his still snotty nose against the bend of Junmyeon’s neck. “No? Then what made you so sad, TaoTao?”

“Bad dream,” Zitao mumbles in response, “she came back and was gonna hurt me and Mama again.” Junmyeon, in all honesty, isn’t surprised; Zitao is five and traumatized, it would be more unsettling for him to come out of it all without any ramifications.

Yifan gasps and the hand on the small of Junmyeon’s back is removed as the little boy is lifted out of his arms mid-hiccup. He turns to see the demon tucking Zitao as close to his chest as he can get. “She’s never coming back, I promise, you and Mama are safe now.” Junmyeon just watches as Yifan paces the bedroom with Zitao in his arms, rocking the child like it’s second nature and repeating, “She’s never ever going to hurt you again,” like a prayer. It nearly gives Junmyeon whiplash, how easily Yifan can transition from a creature bordering the line between human and unnatural to an honest-to-god father.

“That’s right,” Junmyeon finds himself overcome with the urge be closer to Zitao. Yifan turns at his voice and the frown that had been pulling at his face softens as Junmyeon approaches. The demon didn’t appear to be that much taller than him before, but Junmyeon has to stand on his tip-toes and balance himself with a hand on Yifan’s shoulder to look Zitao in the eye. “Baba made her go far away so that she could never find you again.”

It is only when he registers the look of absolute shock on Yifan’s face does he realize that he has never referred to Yifan as ‘Baba.’ Even when talking to Zitao, he has only called Yifan by name, and he has no real idea why or how the word came out this time. If Zitao notices the odd tension that suddenly appears between the two adults, he doesn’t react, just reaches for Junmyeon and hums contentedly when his little hand is held gently.

“I love you.” Zitao squeezes Junmyeon’s hand and nuzzles into Yifan’s shoulder as his way of addressing both of them. Junmyeon can’t stop himself from reaching up even farther to kiss Zitao’s forehead.

“I love you too, my little panda bear,” Zitao dissolves into giggles at that, burying his face into Yifan’s shoulder to hide his smile. “Mhmm,” Junmyeon continues, one finger moving to poke the tip of his nose, “My favorite little panda bear in the whole world.” Zitao’s stomach interrupts him mid-giggle with a growl loud enough for all three of them to hear, “A hungry little panda bear too, it seems.”

Yifan gently shifts Zitao down and gestures the best he can for Junmyeon to take him. “You two go eat lunch. I need to go fill out some last parts of the paperwork Yixing and Luhan brought me; I’ll be in the upstairs bedroom if you need me.” Junmyeon had completely forgotten about the lone bedroom upstairs, but he’s unendingly thankful for it now. He’d assumed that Yifan was going to be forced to sleep on the couch or that Zitao would just keep co-sleeping with Junmyeon, if the demon actually sleeps that is.

Zitao whines when Yifan goes to leave, “Don’t go. I wanna play with you _and_ Mama.”

“As soon as I’m done with my stuff,” Yifan says as he stoops to look Zitao in the eye, “I will come down and have lunch with you and Mama and you can show me all the new things you bought at the store today, alright?” The child lets out a put-upon sigh much too serious for his age, but nods his consent and scrunches up his face at the loud, smacking kiss Yifan presses to his cheek. “Now, panda bear, go eat lots of bamboo so you grow to be as tall as me.”

“Pandas don’t eat bamboo,” Zitao says matter-of-factly.

“No? Then what do they eat?”

“Chef Boyardee, like Mama does. I know because I’m a panda.” Junmyeon has to bite his lip to muffle his laughter at the sheer confidence in Zitao’s voice. An odd shiver runs through him when he notices that Yifan is staring at his mouth with his own mouth hanging slightly open. The moment lasts until Yifan clears his throat and tears his eyes away from Junmyeon’s mouth. The demon acquiesces to Zitao’s infinite panda wisdom and disappears down the hallway.

Junmyeon’s fingers feel like their tingling, and his cheeks are warm when he absent-mindedly presses his free hand to one. His head spins as he recounts the past hour inside his head with Zitao chattering about more totally untrue facts about pandas. He had told Minseok that he doesn’t trust Yifan, not really, but all he had done since then has been to put his safety and wellbeing into the demon’s hands. Yifan feels safe, like there is nothing that can get to him as long as he’s next to Yifan. His body is drawn to Yifan like a magnet, falling into his orbit whenever the demon comes near. It’s terrifying and insane and yet it feels familiar, like he’s always done this. He shoves those feelings deep, deep down to be looked at later with Minseok and tea and one of Zitao’s movies playing in the background to keep his kid occupied because somewhere along the line, having Zitao with him has become second nature too.

His breaths start coming a little too fast as he processes just how quickly the two have creeped into his life hits him over the head. His whole life has been turned upside down and he has no idea what he’s supposed to do about it. Junmyeon saw it all coming too, he knew what he was getting into, so why did he let it happen?

“You’re the best Mama ever,” Zitao sighs and rests his head on Junmyeon’s shoulder as Junmyeon attempts to fish two bowls and two cans out of the cabinet, “I love you more than anything in the whole world.”

That is why he let it happen. Junmyeon would do it all over again, every scare, every moment when he thought he was going insane, even the near ritual sacrifice, if it means that he gets to keep Zitao.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! If you did, I would love it if you were so kind as to leave a kudos and a comment or come talk to me at on [ Twitter. ](https://twitter.com/killmeDO) I also opened up a [ Curious Cat ](https://curiouscat.me/killmeDO) please come ask questions about the story or anything else! (I love talking to you guys and I would love to hear what you think of this story!)


	10. X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost at 600 kudos you guys!!! holy hell!!! Well, I hope you all like this chapter! (Also I'm shadowbanned on Twitter so if you tweet at me and I don't respond, I did, twitter's just a fucking mess.) Also!!! We're finally getting to the good stuff next chapter so I hope you all are excited!!
> 
> As always, thank you Aarushi (@AarushiC_18) for betaing!

Junmyeon’s phone has been buzzing for the past fifteen minutes, vibrating around in his desk drawer so loudly that his twenty-six kindergarteners can’t ignore it. He’d be irritated at the fact that he can’t get them to finish a single letter-tracing worksheet, but it’s almost lunchtime on Friday and even he can’t be bothered to focus on the difference between uppercase and lowercase G’s.

He’d spent last week coaching Zitao through the Korean alphabet because the little boy had heard Junmyeon complaining about Yixing and Luhan to Minseok over the phone in Korean while Yifan had holed himself in the upstairs bedroom on Saturday. As soon he hung up the phone, Zitao wrapped himself around his legs and begged for Junmyeon to teach him how to talk like, in his words, _Mama’s special words_. Zitao catches on quickly, much faster than Yifan who sits off to the side and pretends that he’s not attempting to copy Zitao’s letters down, but Junmyeon can only take so many hours of tracing and sounding out letters and words before he’s ready to explode.

The only thing that made it all worthwhile was how proud Zitao was of himself when he wrote down the entire alphabet, making the sound of each letter as he went, without having to pause or ask for help. The fact that Yifan had to ask Zitao how he tells the more complicated diphthongs apart just serves to make Junmyeon even more proud of their son.

The little timer on his desk finally rings and releases the kindergarteners for lunch and Junmyeon is more than happy to let them flood into the cafeteria and become the lunch aides’ responsibility. All he wants to do is curl up on the beanbag chair next to his bookshelf with whatever lunch Yifan and Zitao packed for him this morning and make sure that Zitao and Yifan haven’t burned down the house yet.

It had been a joint decision to keep Zitao out of school for this semester. He’s technically too old for kindergarten, and whatever he had learned in first grade fifty years ago has left him lagging behind the first graders today. Zitao’s nightmares haven’t gone away either, and he wakes Junmyeon up every night terrified and crying. Yifan took Zitao to the park on Sunday, the demon’s first time out of the house in over sixty years, and they hadn’t been gone for more than forty minutes before Junmyeon got a call that they were on their way home. After a few more attempts of integrating Zitao with the outside world, Yifan and Junmyeon decided to keep him home to heal mentally and emotionally and catch up academically with the other children his age.

Junmyeon waits for all his students to be out the door and on their way to the lunchroom, which is conveniently located right next door, solely because five-year-olds can’t be trusted to walk themselves anywhere, before he pulls open his desk drawer to find that his phone is still buzzing away. The call ends just as he goes to pick it up and the screen lights up with a truly ridiculous number of missed calls and texts from Minseok. He doesn’t even get a chance to see what any of the texts say before he’s getting another call.

“Jesus Christ, Minseok, _what?!”_

The smile on Minseok’s face is audible, “Finally! I’ve been calling you for like half an hour!” Junmyeon lets out a closed-lipped scream that sounds disturbingly like a kettle, dropping his head onto his desk when Minseok doesn’t do anything other than laugh at him. “Listen, I don’t have much time because I wasted most of my lunch break calling you, so how do you feel about me picking Zitao up and then all three of us getting dinner – you get to pick the place – with Baekhyun?”

Yixing’s husband. It’s been almost a week since he met him and Luhan, and Junmyeon still feels a little uncomfortable at the thought of either of them. Yixing, especially, gives him the chills. Unlike Luhan or Yifan, his supernatural origins are easy to see, inhumanity palpable in the air around him. Junmyeon equates Baekhyun with his husband, even though Minseok’s descriptions are the polar opposite, and Yixing is not someone he wants around Zitao.

Junmyeon gnaws fretfully on his pen, wanting desperately to say no because of Baekhyun, a stranger who could easily be a threat or another demon. Yifan had casually avoided answering Junmyeon’s subtle probing into the matter and made him nervous about how many demons he was letting around his child. A small part of him reminds him that Zitao has been asking after Minseok and attempting to pout his way into going to the park or the store.

After his silence has stretched almost to the point of breaking, Minseok signs through the receiver, “Baekhyun really wants to meet you, Jun. He came in to get the last of Mongryeong’s stitches out and said that he has some information about Yifan that could be really helpful to you.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better,” Junmyeon grumbles. He is curious about Yifan’s past, why he was trapped in the house, what his powers are, what it actually means to be a demon, but some niggling part of him says that it’s not right to get that information without Yifan’s consent, especially when the demon has made it explicitly clear that he’ll tell him anything he wants to know. “Zitao is really fragile when it comes to new experiences and people right now. The only person he’s not absolutely terrified of besides Yifan and I is you. What if he’s scared of Baekhyun?” There’s only silence from the other end and Junmyeon can’t tell if that’s good or bad. “I can’t keep doing that to Zitao, Minseok. He’s getting a lot better, he didn’t cry at all when I left for work this morning, and I don’t want to jeopardize that.”

Minseok hums like he’s in deep thought. He asks about Zitao everyday like clockwork; he knows the struggles Junmyeon and Yifan have been having, namely, how Junmyeon leaving for work sends Zitao in hysterics because he can’t understand that Mama isn’t leaving forever, that he’ll always come home. “What if Yifan came along in the car,” Minseok’s voice curls around the name like it physically pains him to say it, and Junmyeon wonders why Baekhyun, a man married to a demon, is free from his ire, “You could ride to wherever we decide to eat in my car and Baekhyun could send Yixing and Yifan to go finish the grocery shopping we never got around to. Then Yifan will only be a few minutes away if dinner becomes too much for Zitao.”

It’s not a bad idea, honestly. They’re running dangerously low on groceries, but Zitao refuses to go back to the store unless both of them are there and he won’t let Yifan or Junmyeon go alone because he has convinced himself that if they leave without him they’ll never come back. Junmyeon feels a little backed into a corner now that Minseok has addressed essentially all of his reservations.

“I’ll text Yifan and see what he thinks about it,” Junmyeon allows himself a small, satisfied smile because he knows that Yifan will give a gentle but resounding ‘no’. Yifan is very wary of letting Zitao leave the house, checking and double-checking with a man named Chanyeol to make sure that it’s safe. If there’s even a hint of danger, Yifan will keep Zitao constrained to the yard. Things are odd between Junmyeon and Yifan, and Junmyeon knows that’s mostly because he can’t reconcile the fact that Yifan is at once entirely strange and familiar and comfortable in a way that comes from knowing someone your whole life. He also knows that Yifan has Zitao’s safety and well-being at the forefront of his mind. He’ll never let Zitao go to such an intensely social setting when the little boy is still so easily overwhelmed.

“Baekhyun already did and he thinks it’s a great idea!” Junmyeon’s jaw hits the proverbial floor and he sputters in shock. Pitiful meowing and shrill screams comes through the phone and Minseok curses, ignoring the choked, confused noises Junmyeon’s making, “I have to go, Ms. Thompson’s cat ate a metric shit ton of basil and I have to make sure that he’s okay. I’ll see you at three-fifteen, Jun!” The phone goes dead, one of his students waddles into the classroom with what can only be an accident spreading across the front of his pants, and Junmyeon wonders just when the universe decided he was its personal plaything.

A little after three o’clock, Junmyeon looks up from his desk at the sound of his classroom door opening. Zitao is standing in the doorway mouth open in awe as he takes in Junmyeon’s classroom. The room is all bright colors and pictures of puppies and kittens that Junmyeon and Minseok had spent hours stapling to the walls. Junmyeon feels a dopey smile spready across his face when Zitao makes a soft noise of excitement and nearly sprints across the room to the fishbowl on the bookshelf, allowing Minseok to walk in behind him. Another man walks in, droopy eyes taking in the kindergarten classroom like it’s the best thing he’s ever seen, the Baekhyun he’s heard so much about.

“Woah, look at these pretty fishies, Mama,” Zitao calls from where his nose is pressed against the glass of the fishbowl. “Are these the ones I got to name?” Zitao’s names, Mr. Fishy and Fishy McFisherson, are written on a placard above the fishbowl, and the little boy squeals with delight when he sees it. “Can I feed them?”

Junmyeon nods and points to the fish food partially hidden behind the fishbowl when Zitao looks back with an undeniable pout. Yifan doesn’t even stop to look at the classroom when he walks in, just gives Junmyeon a soft smile and makes his way over to where Zitao is meticulously counting out how many flakes he’s supposed to give each fish. Minseok settles on the edge of Junmyeon’s desk to join him in watching the pair slowly count the flakes in English, and then again in Chinese after Yifan urges Zitao to show his Mama just how well he can count in two languages.

“These are my fishies,” the little boy puffs his chest out in pride as he dumps all the food into the bowl and watches the fish devour it like they’ve been starved. “Did you see that, Baba? I fed them all on my own.” Yifan hums in acknowledgement, eyes crinkling up the corners when he smiles, and Junmyeon has to drag his gaze away from his face – he can’t figure out why it’s so hard to look away – when Minseok waves a hand in his line of sight.

Baekhyun is standing in front of his desk, hands fidgeting nervously like a kid about to be scolded by a teacher; that is a little unsurprising considering that the man is facing a teacher’s desk. “Hello,” Baekhyun’s voice breaks with a squeak from what Junmyeon can only assume is nervousness, though he can’t figure out why the other man would be nervous for the life of him, “it’s nice to finally meet you, Junmyeon. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Good things, I hope,” Junmyeon scrutinizes Baekhyun and takes more than a little satisfaction at not being stared down by a creature that could likely rip him in half for once. JiaJia, Luhan, Yixing, and even Yifan, though a large part of Junmyeon is very adamant that the demon would never use his powers against him, have all been the ones intimidating him, have had all the advantages; it’s nice to have the freedom to analyze someone else without having to worry about it coming back to bite him in the ass. Baekhyun squirms a little under his gaze and Junmyeon feels himself relax as it becomes apparent that the other man is just as powerless in the supernatural situation as he is.

Baekhyun relaxes with him in tandem with a wink, an easy, friendly smile spreading across his face. Junmyeon’s not sure what just happened, but he likes to think that he and Baekhyun have found some sort of camaraderie in the fact that they’re surrounded by people that they have no real defense against. “Zitao couldn’t stop talking about how wonderful you were the entire way here. Everything he said was, ‘My Mama’ this and ‘Mama’ that”

Zitao looks up at the sound his name and grins brightly and waves at Junmyeon. The little boy pushes Yifan down into the beanbag chair and settles himself in his father’s lap with a book that he’s flipping through slowly, working through each word. Something in Junmyeon’s chest jumps when Yifan shifts to sit up and guide Zitao through a particularly difficult sentence, long, elegant fingers moving slowly across the page as he sounds out each syllable for Zitao to mimic. They’ve done this every night for the past week, leading their – Junmyeon’s long since acquiesced that they’re both his parents – son through as many books as he wants, but it’s something else to watch it happen as an outsider.

“And I see you’re just as taken with him as he is with you,” Junmyeon feels his face heat up in embarrassment when Baekhyun’s voice brings him out of his unintentional reverie. There’s a little bit of guilt for having ignored Baekhyun, but it’s easily erased by the delight dancing in the other man’s eyes. “Yixing told me a little about what happened to him,” Baekhyun pauses when Junmyeon tenses, remembering the past week of bad dreams and tears and Zitao not calming down until he has both parents holding him close.

Baekhyun fidgets, clearly unable to find the words to continue whatever he’d been about to say. “It must be hard on you,” it comes out lame and pitched up at the end like a question. Baekhyun winces like that wasn’t what he meant to say.

Still, Junmyeon feels a kneejerk reaction to defend his child; he wasn’t the five-year-old murdered by his own mother, he’s getting off quite easy in the trauma aspect. “It’s been much harder for him, actually.” The air turns heavy and awkward for a moment before Minseok clears his throat, reminding both men of his presence, and nodding over to where Zitao has gotten tired of books and is rummaging through some of the student’s desks.

“Zitao,” Minseok calls as he slides of the desk, stepping in between Baekhyun and Junmyeon and easing some of the discomfort, “don’t you have something to ask Junmyeon about?” Zitao pops out from underneath one of the desks with his mouth dropped open in shock. He squeals and runs across the classroom as fast as his little legs will carry him.

He crawls up into Junmyeon’s lap with that same ridiculous pout, “I wanna go to the milkshake place for dinner! Can we pretty please? Minseok said they have ones with fudge and brownies in them!” Zitao leans in until their noses are touching, whimpering like a kicked puppy and melting Junmyeon’s once formidable will into putty.

“Oh, Zitao, I don’t know.” Zitao’s pout grows and Minseok pouts a little with him – the milkshakes were obviously his idea. Junmyeon sighs and inwardly curses Minseok for being such a good uncle to Zitao; the diner Zitao wants to go to, almost certainly thanks to Minseok’s suggestion, is a child’s paradise in many ways, but neither Yifan or Junmyeon have taken him there yet for a good reason. “TaoTao,” Junmyeon gently touches Zitao’s arm to bring the little boy’s attention back to him, “the milkshake place can get very loud and there are lots of people there. Are you sure you want to go?”

Minseok slowly loses his smile, and Junmyeon can almost see him replaying Zitao’s breakdown in Wal-Mart in his mind. Junmyeon loves Minseok with all his heart. He loves how easily the other man has accepted Zitao as a part of life and checks on him so often, but for all that he cares for the little boy and wants to make him happy he doesn’t know what it’s like to be with him day-in and day-out. Junmyeon wants to wait to take Zitao to somewhere so loud and bustling; the little boy can get overwhelmed just meeting people on a walk around the neighborhood, the stress some place like that could put him through terrifies Junmyeon in way that not even being tied up and nearly sacrificed can.

It makes sense though, doesn’t it? Junmyeon thought that he loved Zitao before, but the affection he’d felt before is nothing compared to the way the little boy has taken his entire heart captive this past week. Junmyeon would face deranged murderers a thousand times if it meant that Zitao would stay safe and happy. He knows that he can’t keep his son happy _and_ safe all the time, especially when what would make him happy would put him in danger.

Zitao’s lower lip wobbles as he realizes that Junmyeon’s trying to let him down gently. Over the little boy’s shoulder, Minseok looks incredibly apologetic and mouths _sorry_ over and over again. Junmyeon waves him off with a gentle smile; Minseok had done with what he thought were Zitao’s best interests at heart. Baekhyun, to Junmyeon’s confusion, looks absolutely mesmerized when Yifan crouches down next to Zitao and ruffles the little boy’s hair.

“I know you really wanted to go to the milkshake place with Minseok and Baekhyun and Mama, but I really need a big boy to help me and Yixing buy groceries today.” Zitao perks up a little at that, because he’s been adamant all week that he is ‘the biggest boy’ that can brush his teeth all by himself and help Junmyeon grade homework and cook dinner with Yifan. Yifan grins and gives Junmyeon a wink that makes him grin dopily as well, both well aware that their son is already forgetting about the milkshake place.

“I’m a big boy. I can do it!” Yifan’s face lights up. Zitao leaps out of Junmyeon’s lap towards Yifan, and the demon hurriedly opens his arms to catch him. “I can read the list and carry all the bags and push the cart and everything!” Realistically, he’ll end up just reading the list and carrying a bag of chips, but Junmyeon doesn’t have the heart to do anything but nod excitedly and agree that Zitao is indeed one of the biggest and strongest little boys in the world.

“And because you’re such a good helper,” Junmyeon says as he eases himself out of the chair and into a crouch right next to Yifan, “I’m going to have a treat for you when you come pick me up.” It’s going to be a milkshake, of course, but Zitao’s mind has apparently already focused on the grocery store and left him clueless as to what his treat will be. There’s something unendingly gratifying about the way Zitao nearly vibrates out of his skin in excitement. He grabs Yifan’s face and whisper-yells that he’s going to get a treat.

Yifan hums in acknowledgment, a big, cheesy smile on his face as he stands up and eases Zitao to the ground. He extends a hand to Junmyeon, and the man fights down the blush that threatens to climb up his neck as he’s helped to his feet like a damsel in distress. Yifan’s fingers trail up his arms when the demon lets go, something oddly familiar yet unrecognizable sparking in his eyes and along the wake of his fingertips. It’s so easy to freeze in place as Yifan’s fingers drift feather-light nearly up to his shoulder; he’s eternally grateful when Zitao tugs at his arm and asks him to come read a story with him.

There’s a soft buzz and then Baekhyun is pulling out his cellphone with fond smile. “I don’t think there’s any time for that, Zitao,” Baekhyun passes the phone to Yifan for him to read whatever is on the screen after he shrugs apologetically at the little boy hiding his face in Junmyeon’s thigh, “Yixing is here to pick you and Yifan up so that you guys can go get groceries.”

Zitao whines high in his throat and tightens his grip on Junmyeon’s arm. “Mama stays with me.” Junmyeon looks to Yifan with a resigned frown on his face; they know exactly what’s about to happen. They do this every morning when Junmyeon leaves for work.

Zitao, despite Junmyeon promising over and over again that he’ll always come back home, becomes nearly inconsolable when it’s time for Junmyeon to leave. Yifan had spent one morning after Junmyeon left and Zitao calmed down trying to figure it out, and all that he could gather was that seeing JiaJia knock Junmyeon unconscious and then drag his body into the living room had shaken Zitao to the core. He convinced himself that something was going to get Junmyeon if he left the house without Yifan or Zitao, and it’s a slow, slow process to convince him otherwise.

Minseok knows this. He was the one Junmyeon called after he left the house Monday and morning and could still hear Zitao sobbing for him not to leave in his mind. It had taken him a long time to get the whole story out because he’d been holding back tears the entire time and finally let them go when Minseok picked up the phone, but Minseok gave him as much time as he needed. He’d listened silently the entire time and now Junmyeon can see that it had been because he was planning. “Do you think I’d ever let anything happen to your mama, Zitao?”

The little boy stops whining tearfully into Junmyeon’s leg to look up at Minseok and shake his head. Junmyeon knows that Zitao adores Minseok – not as much as he loves Junmyeon, but a large amount nonetheless.

“Exactly! I’m going to be with him the _whole_ time so nothing can hurt him. Does that sound good?”

Zitao looks up at Yifan and Junmyeon helplessly. Junmyeon leans down to kiss his brow and pull him in close. “You gotta stay with Minnie,” he whimpers, “You gotta stay with him the whole time.” Junmyeon nods and rubs a soothing hand up and down Zitao’s back. He hadn’t cried this morning, slowly growing accustomed to the idea that he will have to let Junmyeon leave in the mornings and that Mama will always come back in the evenings, but apparently having to let his mother go twice in one day is too much for him.

Junmyeon holds him just a bit tighter when he hears Zitao hiccup a sound dangerously close to a sob. The classroom door opens and closes and Yixing is standing there with a look not unlike a deer caught in headlights. Junmyeon knows that he should probably let Zitao go so that they can split and go their separate ways, but he really doesn’t want to. He wants to go back home with Yifan and Zitao and watch them bicker in Chinese over whether or not they should have ice cream for dinner. He wants to have to fight Zitao to get in the bath and then fight him again to get out. He wants to fall asleep to Yifan reading Zitao what the little boy promises will be ‘the last bedtime story’ for the fifth time because Zitao can’t go to sleep unless both parents are with him.

Junmyeon realizes that he’s become almost disgustingly domestic with a demon and former ghost child. He also realizes that he doesn’t particularly care and wonders when, somewhere in the past week, Yifan became a given in his life.

“Can I walk with you out to the car?” Junmyeon’s not sure if he’s asking Zitao or Yifan, but he’s pretty sure that neither one of them are going to tell him ‘no.’

“Will you carry me, please,” Zitao barely has time to finish his sentence before Junmyeon his lifting him up, tucking him into his side, and slowly meandering out of the classroom with a soft _of course_ and praise for using his manners. Out of the corner of his eye, Junmyeon can see Baekhyun watching the whole scene with something akin to wonder, but he thinks that it’s more for the way that Yifan scrambles to open the door for Junmyeon than a man carrying his son.

Zitao only asks for three goodbye kisses when Junmyeon places him in the backseat instead of the usual five. It would be an improvement if Yifan didn’t have to spend five minutes coaxing the little boy to let Junmyeon go. When he’s finally free, Junmyeon backpedals until he bumps into Minseok. It’s a little purposeful because he hasn’t forgotten Yixing’s threat and doesn’t like how the corner of the demon’s mouth pulls up when he eyes Junmyeon standing protectively in front Minseok.

“Bye, Mama! I love you,” Zitao yells out the car window as they pull away.

Junmyeon catches the kiss that Zitao blows him and blows his own in return, stomping on Minseok’s foot when the other man gags playfully. “I love you too, tell Baba to call me if you need me!” Yifan, who had been hanging out of the passenger window to watch Zitao and Junmyeon yell at each other, goes bright red and rolls the window back up to hide his face.

Junmyeon doesn’t move until the car, and Zitao, are out of sight. His heart aches a little because he’s horribly attached to his son and finds that he isn’t fond of being away from him more than strictly necessary. Baekhyun gently taps him on the shoulder when Zitao’s adoring smile finally disappears from view and motions toward his own car. He looks unbearably awkward, smile wavering and unsure, and Junmyeon can’t help but feel another wave of camaraderie for him. They’re two humans stumbling around in a world they are powerless in, and Junmyeon is grateful for whatever information Baekhyun can offer him. He is, however, wary of learning anything about Yifan that isn’t directly from the source. The idea of going behind his co-parent’s, because that’s what they’ve become – nothing more – back makes his stomach crawl in disgust.

Still, he takes pity on Baekhyun and smiles as friendly as he can, “Come on, we’ve got to get my child a milkshake.”

* * *

 

The man married to a demon takes a deep breath from where he’s seated across the booth from Junmyeon. They’re both staring awkwardly at their milkshakes because neither of them know to breach the subject at hand. Minseok disappeared to the bathroom to escape the tension and left them to their own incapable devices. Junmyeon feels ridiculous because he lived in haunted house for two weeks and faced down an old woman but can’t even start a conversation with another human.

He looks up at Baekhyun and suddenly realizes that this isn’t just any other human. There’s something ancient about the way he holds himself and time in his eyes that doubles Junmyeon’s life tenfold. His English is nearly unaccented, but he can hear native Korean, _old_ Korean, laced in some of the words. Junmyeon would believe that he’s been married to Yixing for longer than any human can fully comprehend, not that he believes they’re actually married. If they’ve been together for as long as Junmyeon believes, then there is something binding them together that marriage can’t even begin to scratch the surface of.

Curiosity, that same damn curiosity that has led him to this moment, grabs hold of his mouth for a moment, “How old are you?”

Baekhyun freezes and his shoulders tense up before he looks up at Junmyeon and blinks owlishly. “That’s a better opener than anything I could think of,” the man flops back against the seat with a relieved sigh. When he doesn’t say anything further, Junmyeon motions for him to keep talking and Baekhyun forces out a sheepish laugh. “I’m sorry, I’m just a little nervous. I haven’t had anyone to tell about my life in a long time because most people don’t believe me when I tell them.”

There’s some sense to that; Junmyeon is pretty sure that no one would but Baekhyun or Minseok would believe him if he told them about his formerly haunted house or the fact that he was nearly the sacrifice in a demonic ritual. He doubts that whatever Baekhyun has to say is on that level of supernatural, and even if it is, Junmyeon’s come to accept that nothing can really be ruled out as impossible anymore.

“I was born during the Joseon era, sometime around the mid-sixteenth century if Yixing’s old records are correct,” Baekhyun appears to be counting centuries on his hands, running through words that sound like the numbers Junmyeon learned from his parents but different in way that he can’t exactly describe. Junmyeon is a little shocked to find out that there are things that his brain still has trouble wrapping itself around. Namely, that the youthful man across from him is almost half a millenium old. It had been one thing to have a vague knowledge that Baekhyun is older than he appears, but having the actual date makes it all too real in a way that Junmyeon’s brain can’t comprehend.

“How are you still alive? You’re a human, aren’t you?” Suddenly, Junmyeon doesn’t feel all that safe around Baekhyun anymore. He should know by now that looks can be deceiving. JiaJia looked to be a regular old lady before she tied him up and attempted to cut him open for a demonic ritual; Yifan first appeared as a blood-thirsty entity sent solely to reap the souls of humans and he sings lullabies to their five-year-old whenever Zitao has a nightmare. Baekhyun could easily be another demon disguised as a _very_ unassuming human.

Baekhyun must notice the tension in his shoulders, because he raises his hands as if to show he’s harmless. “I’m as human as they come in our world. The only power I have is making Yixing sleep on the couch when he’s being a dick,” his mouth pulls up at the corners at his joke but Junmyeon can’t find it within himself to laugh.

He really doesn’t like that Baekhyun had to qualify his status as a human nor does he enjoy being included in whatever the other man deems as ‘their world.’ “What exactly do you mean, Baekhyun? You’re either a human or a demon.” Junmyeon has it set up nicely in his head, him, Minseok, and Zitao in the column for humans and Yixing, Luhan, and Yifan in the column for demons. Baekhyun places himself somewhere right in the middle and that is not something Junmyeon is ready for.

“Ugh, I wish Yifan had just sucked it up and told you all of this himself. Humans and demons are two separate categories, yes, but not for us,” Baekhyun motions between the two of them then drops his head into hands in exasperation. He takes a few deep breaths before looking up at the ceiling like it will give him the guidance he so desperately needs when Junmyeon presses himself back into the booth to get away from whatever similarity Baekhyun is implying. “I was born human, but humans don’t live this long. Yixing claimed me when I was…probably somewhere around twenty years old and I came out of it less human than I went in. I will live as long as Yixing without outside intervention and it will take _a lot_ to kill me, but that’s it. I don’t have any powers; I can’t do _anything_ supernatural unless I ask Yixing to do it for me. I’m a human with just enough demon in me to stay by Xing’s side forever.”

Junmyeon blinks slowly and tries to absorb all the information rattling around his brain. A human demonic enough to live with their demon forever, isn’t that what JiaJia had wanted? Did Baekhyun kill his own child for Yixing? He can’t imagine anyone who looked as taken with Zitao as Baekhyun did to be capable of killing a child, but he’s been wrong before. This man could have sacrificed a child and Junmyeon let him around Zitao? Yifan, who has to know what Baekhyun has done, let this child-killer around their son?

Yifan wouldn’t. There’s simply no way he would let anyone like that come within a square mile of Zitao. If Baekhyun had done the unthinkable, had killed a child, then he wouldn’t be sitting across from him right now. He doesn’t understand how Baekhyun has lived for so long though; JiaJia attempted to make a deal to gain that kind of immortality and partnership with Yifan, so what did Baekhyun do. The other man shifts uncomfortably and his shirt shifts with him. There, nearly hidden under the collar of his shirt, is an unmistakable set of teeth marks.

Junmyeon knows he should look away, look anywhere but at the shiny scar tissue standing out from the rest of Baekhyun’s skin, but he can’t seem to make his eyes move. His mind is already leaping to conclusions that are more than likely right, considering how fucking improbable his life has become; Baekhyun is wearing Yixing’s teeth marks like a dog wears a collar, that’s what he meant by ‘claimed.’ Junmyeon can’t figure out what part of it bothers him the most, the fact that Baekhyun has been literally, physically claimed or how the bite mark looks like it must have _hurt_. Maybe, he’s most bothered by the fact that it doesn’t bother him nearly as much as it should.

Logically, he knows that the scar on Baekhyun’s neck is a sign that Yixing and all the other demons are animalistic, violent, and possessive. It’s a physical sign that Yixing, in some way, owns Baekhyun and all of Junmyeon’s ideals about human rights and equality fight against it viciously. Junmyeon is perturbed that his moral ideals and logic are the only things that have a real problem with the bite mark on Baekhyun’s neck. The rest of him, for reasons he can’t even begin to comprehend, accepts it as though it’s a normal occurrence. Baekhyun is Yixing’s and Yixing is Baekhyun’s, it’s as simple as that. Except it’s not in the slightest and Junmyeon knows that his conscious mind is missing some crucial information, some penultimate step, that his unconscious seems to have memorized forwards and backwards.

When he finally manages to move his eyes away from Baekhyun’s neck, he finds that the other man is staring at him with eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Junmyeon lets his gaze wander back to the bite and Baekhyun freezes in realization. One hand flies to up to tug the neckline of his shirt nearly up to his chin while the other starts making wildly fluttering motions as Baekhyun stutters his way through an explanation.

“You – ah – weren’t supposed to see that. Definitely _not_ supposed to see that,” Baekhyun thumps his rapidly blushing face against the table and breaks off into something that sounds like Korean but is nothing like what Junmyeon grew up hearing. The sounds are similar, but they’re stressed and ordered in ways he can’t even begin to process. It reminds him of the way Yifan cursed in Mandarin, English, and what Yifan describes as some of the earliest Chinese to ever exist when he burnt his hand on a pot making dinner. The knowledge that Baekhyun and the demons have inside their head is astounding, so astounding that Junmyeon nearly forgets about the scar on Baekhyun’s shoulder until the man segues back into English. “I’ve had this for nearly five hundred years and this is the one time I slip up and show it? You are the one person – aside from Mark, but I haven’t seen him in years – that can understand this and I wasn’t supposed to let you see it.”

“Why wasn’t I supposed to see it?” Junmyeon has a flashback to Luhan opening the door and telling him that Yifan is already taken, _‘He’s tied down now, got a mate and kid and everything.’_ Something in his chest aches and his stomach drops to the floor. Does Yifan have another family? Have he and Zitao just been replacements for the people Yifan really loves? Junmyeon tells himself that they lump in his throat is for Zitao, because that little boy loves Yifan more than words can even begin to describe, and refuses to acknowledge the fact that this hurt is a little too personal to just be for his son.

“I’m not allowed to tell you that either,” the sheepish grin on Baekhyun’s face slides off into a concerned frown when they both see that Junmyeon’s knuckles are white from how hard his hands are clenched into fists. “Are you okay? I’m sorry that I can’t tell you, but Yifan asked me not to. I think it’s something he wants you to hear from him.”

“Is there-” Junmyeon stops himself, just barely stops himself, from saying ‘someone else’ because that sounds too much like a relationship and that’s not what they have. Yifan isn’t _his_ and he doesn’t belong to Yifan. “Does Yifan have someone like you?” It comes out so bitter that Junmyeon blinks in surprise at his own voice, but Baekhyun snorts like it’s a joke stares like he sees right through him.

“I promise,” Baekhyun reaches across the table to gently pat at Junmyeon’s fists, “you and Zitao are the only humans for Yifan.” Junmyeon doesn’t want to think about the way his whole body relaxes. He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and his hands slowly unclench.

Minseok slides back into the booth a moment later and eyes the way Baekhyun still has his hands draped over Junmyeon’s with suspicion. They both shrug, a bit awkward at being caught in an oddly intimate position, but Minseok’s eyes just squint up under the force of his mega-watt smile. “I knew you two would get along! Now scooch, Jun, I want to hear all the details about how this demon stuff works.”

Baekhyun’s face shifts into something decidedly sneaky for an instant, there and gone so fast that Junmyeon’s not sure if he imagined it or not. “Well, I think I’ve run through what I wanted to talk to Junmyeon about. A lot of the questions he has would be better answered by Yifan since they’re likely all about him.” Junmyeon feels himself flush at Baekhyun’s knowing smile, though he’s not entirely sure why. Minseok whines in a way that would be unbecoming of any other adult and rolls his eyes dramatically. “Don’t pout,” Baekhyun giggles, “I think you’ll enjoy this part too. I would like to learn more about you, Junmyeon.” Junmyeon freezes like a deer in headlights, he’s never been one to enjoy the spotlight.

Minseok, dear, sweet Minseok, scoffs and waves Baekhyun off. “I’ve spent my entire life learning about Junmyeon. Tell me about Zitao.”

“Oh yeah, fuck my idea, tell us about the baby!" Baekhyun leans forward in interest and Junmyeon allows himself a small smile. He can talk and has talked about Zitao for hours. He’ll never get tired of talking about his kid. Junmyeon launches into the story of Zitao and Yifan attempting to bake cookies that ended with a chocolate chip stuck up Yifan’s nose and continues to regale them with all of the mishaps his little family has had until Minseok spurts milkshake out of his nose and Baekhyun cries with laughter.

When Yifan, Yixing, and Zitao come by to pick them up, Junmyeon meets Zitao halfway and peppers the little boy’s face with kisses until neither of them are aware of the tacky tear tracks on Zitao’s cheeks. Junmyeon looks up over Zitao’s head when he snuggles as close as he can get into his chest and sees Yifan watching them with an exceptionally fond expression. Baekhyun’s words about their importance to the demon hold a lot more weight when Junmyeon can see the way that Yifan doesn’t look anywhere else but at them.

Junmyeon smiles sweetly and stifles a laugh when Yifan immediately turns away, just like Junmyeon thought he would. The distance between them is shrinking with each day and Junmyeon knows he has to figure out what Yifan asked Baekhyun to keep from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! If you did, I would love it if you were so kind as to leave a kudos and a comment or come talk to me at on [ Twitter. ](https://twitter.com/killmeDO) I also opened up a [ Curious Cat ](https://curiouscat.me/killmeDO) please come ask questions about the story or anything else! (I love talking to you guys and I would love to hear what you think of this story!)


	11. XI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We going (airplane emoji) Krisho my dudes!!!! Also, holy hell this got like 100 kudos last chapter im freaking out. (if this ever hits 1000 kudos im gonna do backflips). I really don't have anything else to say besides thank you all for all your support!! This story would not be the same if it wasn't for all of you so thank you so much for your views and comments and kudoses (kudosi?)
> 
> I have some exciting news! I know some of you came from my BTS fic It Takes a Village and that will hopefully be updated w the extra chapter I mentioned back in February or March by next Friday, BUT I just put up a new BTS fic [ The Kids Are Alright (Well, They Will Be)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14578323/chapters/33688119)!
> 
> As always, thank you Aarushi (@AarushiC_18) for beta-ing this story and all the other stories I've written!

Junmyeon is aware that there’s a movie playing on the television. It’s something Zitao picked out because it has talking animals and bright colors and the good guys always win; the kind of movie that Junmyeon and Yifan encourage because their son deserves as much happiness as he can get after the life he’s had so far. Junmyeon paid attention for a little while, long enough to figure out that the sheep was behind the whole operation, but now he can’t be bothered to even glance up at the screen. Zitao is blissfully asleep next to him and Junmyeon can’t take his eyes off that sweet little face. Yifan seems to be having the same trouble, if the long fingers smoothing Zitao’s hair back from his face are any indication.

               Zitao had dragged them both to Junmyeon’s bedroom to watch the movie after they thoroughly kicked Yifan’s ass at UNO. Yifan still maintains that it was against the rules for Junmyeon and Zitao to team up and take two turns with only one hand, but the complaints are mostly to make Zitao laugh. Junmyeon hadn’t thought anything of it when Zitao asked to sit between his parents, but now that he and Yifan somehow gravitated towards each other, only just enough space left between their bodies for Zitao to sleep.

“Do you ever wonder what you must have done for the universe to send you love like this,” Junmyeon asks mostly to himself. He tucks Zitao’s blanket in closer and leans down to press a kiss to the tip of his nose. Junmyeon can without a doubt say that he’s never loved anyone as much as he loves his son. He’d do anything for the little boy clutching at his sleeve in his sleep. Zitao murmurs something in half-Mandarin half-English and momentarily tightens his grip on the fabric.

Junmyeon’s eyes search for Zitao’s other hand and he smiles softly when he sees that it is wrapped up tight in Yifan’s. He follows an imaginary path up the demon’s arm and has to bite back a yelp of surprise when their eyes meet. Yifan doesn’t blink or move his eyes even a millimeter away from Junmyeon’s, face soft and oddly intense, “Every moment of my life.”

The air turns tense for a moment as Junmyeon flounders helplessly for some kind of response under Yifan’s gaze. He knows that his face is turning red, heat pooling in his cheeks and ears, and he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth out of nerves. Yifan’s eyes drop to Junmyeon’s mouth and they both freeze. Junmyeon doesn’t know what to do. It takes him a few moments, but he eventually manages to tear his eyes aware from Yifan’s face and suddenly become fascinated with his own hands.

Then his brain catches up to what Yifan had said and starts pushing words out of his mouth without his permission, “About your life, how long have you been alive? What exactly are you?” He claps a hand over his mouth to shut it up, embarrassed at his blatant prying into Yifan’s life despite the fact that answering those questions and others had been his goal for the night. “I’m so sorry, that was really really rude. You don’t have to answer that.”

Yifan sighs and gets off the bed. Junmyeon looks up to see him motioning for Junmyeon to follow him out into the hallway, an unreadable look on his face. Anxiety bubbles up in Junmyeon’s stomach that Yifan might be angry with him; Junmyeon wouldn’t like it if someone started trying to poke their nose into his life either. The fear must show on his face, because Yifan smiles reassuringly, “I’ve been waiting for you to ask me for a while now, Junmyeon, don’t worry. It’s just a long story and I don’t want to wake Zitao up.”

Junmyeon gently slides Zitao off his lap and makes sure he’s tucked in before easing off the bed and following Yifan into the kitchen. Well, he thought they were going to the kitchen, but Yifan walks by the entrance without a second glance. Junmyeon’s footsteps falter for a moment in confusion. Are they going to the living room? The living room has been a no-man’s-land since _that_ night; Yifan told him that Zitao won’t even venture near the front door alone because the living room terrifies him. Junmyeon is not ashamed to admit that he isn’t fond of the living room either, the blood stain on the carpet makes him nauseous every time it catches his eye.

That’s why he’s more relieved than he really should be when Yifan takes a sharp left and starts up the stairs to his private study-slash-bedroom. Junmyeon’s never been upstairs before, not even when he was moving in. It’s smaller than he expected, though that could be explained by all the space the desk and the three giant bookshelves covered in a truly insane number of baubles take up. The room is _covered_ in things and Junmyeon wonders how one person could have collected this much stuff. Yifan stops in the middle of the room and turns to face him with an almost shy expression. It reminds Junmyeon of his students when they want to show him a picture they drew, terrified and eager for his reaction and approval.

Junmyeon steps closer to the bookshelves to see exactly what all the trinkets are and gasps. The bookshelves are most certainly _not_ holding junk or useless knick-knacks; they’re full of beautiful, intricate, ancient figurines, carvings, pottery, tools – things older than he can even begin to fathom. Most of looks like it’s from ancient China, truly _ancient_ China. The blades carefully laid out next to each other look like they’re made of stone, not metal, and the actual metal bowls are green from centuries of oxidation. Junmyeon wonders how old the man standing next to him actually is. There is an ankh leaning next to tablet inscribed in hieroglyphs and what looks like a Grecian urn from _Hercules_ , but Junmyeon is captivated by the sheer number and variety of coins and vessels and fucking jade carvings that dominate nearly every shelf.

There’s one in particular that he can’t keep his eyes off of. It stands out from the rest solely by color; a dragon carved out of some beautiful blue stone that he doesn’t have a name for. The way it’s angled on the shelf makes it look like it’s looking straight through Junmyeon and he reaches out tentatively to feel the etched lines on its face. It’s not until he’s running his fingers down the bumps along its back that he realizes he’s touching what must be a priceless artifact without Yifan’s permission like a damn child.

He pulls his hand back like the dragon came to life and snapped at him, turning to Yifan with a guilty frown. “I’m so sorry,” Junmyeon valiantly tries to fight down the blush rising in his cheeks. The demon raises in eyebrow and makes a soft noise of confusion, which, oddly enough, just makes Junmyeon feel even more guilty. Before he can stop himself, his mouth disconnects from his brain once again and starts to babble, “That was incredibly rude of me. That dragon has to be hundreds of years old – I can’t even begin to guess how old it is or what it’s made out of – and it must mean a lot to you and-”

“Here,” Yifan cuts him off mid-sentence and pulls the dragon off the shelf before shoving it at him. When Junmyeon doesn’t take it from him, he gently takes Junmyeon’s hand in his own and curls the human’s fingers around the figurine. All of Junmyeon’s hard work to stop himself from blushing is lost when Yifan gently closes his still open mouth with one hand under his chin. “It’s lapis lazuli, probably a little more than three thousand years old, and it’s yours now.”

               Junmyeon attempts to give it back once his brain finally catches up with the rest of him, but Yifan has already moved to a different shelf and pulls down an odd box-like object. “Yifan, I can’t keep this. It has to be worth millions; I don’t deserve something so precious,” Junmyeon carries the dragon like he’s afraid to hold it, barely touching it with his fingertips to avoid dirtying while he trails after Yifan.

The demon sets the box-like object on the carpet and kneels down beside it, pulling out a smaller box from the inside and completely ignoring Junmyeon’s quiet and frantic repetitions that he would very much like Yifan to take the three-thousand-year-old dragon figurine out of his hands. Yifan looks up at him with private, unreadable smile after he finishes setting up what looks like a little game board.

“You deserve that dragon and more, darl-” Yifan’s eyes go wide and he coughs violently into his fist before clearing his throat, “I just want you to have it, alright? Zitao has a little panda figurine made out of onyx just like it, so it’s like you match.” Junmyeon suddenly remembers Zitao using a small black and white toy he’d never seen before to hunt down the leafy parts of celery stalks while he made dinner earlier this week. He’d wondered where it came from but never saw a reason to ask; as long as it isn’t stolen and isn’t dangerous, he doesn’t see a reason to question it.

“You gave our child a priceless artifact as a _toy?!_ ” Junmyeon doesn’t know if he’s more shocked by how high and squeaky he sounds in his surprise or that his five-year-old took a figurine older than the Roman empire into the bathtub to be a pirate captain just a few hours ago. Junmyeon is pretty sure that Zitao fell asleep holding that panda. “Zitao has been playing demolition derby with it all week! He could have broken it to pieces!”

Yifan rolls his eyes and calmly gestures for Junmyeon to sit down across from him. Junmyeon makes a muffled sort of scream at the demon’s casual indifference and considers stamping his foot to make sure Yifan understands just how not happy he is. “Sit down, Junmyeon,” Yifan finally huffs out a sigh as he shifts up onto his knees to gently tug Junmyeon down, “Those carvings are only worth as much as they do their job. Right now, that panda’s job is to be Zitao’s toy. If it can’t do that, it’s worthless to me.” He points to the dragon now cradled in Junmyeon’s lap, “That dragon’s purpose to be something that you like. If it isn’t, I’ll throw it out the window and we won’t have to deal with it anymore.”

Yifan laughs bright and pleased when Junmyeon clutches the dragon. “The figurines aren’t important to me, _you two_ are. I also made a deal with Zitao when I gave him the panda that I would make all of the toys up here indestructible if he gave me a hug, so that dragon can be at the epicenter of a nuclear detonation and come out just fine.”

Junmyeon still isn’t happy that he has been spontaneously gifted with a chunk of lapis lazuli likely more valuable than his entire house, but the word ‘deal’ piques his curiosity. From what he remembers of the night JiaJia tried to kill him, which comes in bits and pieces that revolve almost exclusively around Zitao, JiaJia had been trying to make a deal to stay by Yifan’s side for the rest of eternity. Details are a little fuzzy, but he remembers that the deal had somehow transferred to him and Yifan gave him three requests without ever asking for payment.

Junmyeon hadn’t really thought about what exactly Yifan got in return before. The deal with Zitao – Junmyeon realizes he’s come to trust Yifan wholeheartedly when he doesn’t spiral into panic about Zitao making a deal with a literal demon – had a very clear cost and benefit, though Junmyeon still isn’t sure how Yifan’s powers actually work; Zitao gives Yifan a hug, as if he doesn’t hug both parents at least four times a day, and all the pretty toys Yifan keeps on the bookshelves are impossible for him to break. It sounds absolutely ridiculous and sappy, two traits that a mutinous part of his brain happily reminds him describe his life the past few weeks.

“What do you mean when you say ‘deal’? Are you a crossroads demon or something?”

Yifan’s eyes light up with glee, a brilliant smile curving across his face and Junmyeon suddenly forgets how to breathe. The demon picks up one of the little pieces sitting on top what has to be a board game, “This is called a senet board. Luhan brought this and the rock your dragon was carved from back from Egypt a few centuries before we met Yixing – so about two hundred years before the Shang dynasty ended if my records are correct, which they are.” Junmyeon nods along. He’s not entirely sure where Yifan is going, but there’s something about the joy glittering in the demon’s eyes that has him ready to follow Yifan anywhere.

“I wanted to play a game with your questions instead of me just narrating the three thousand years I’ve existed,” Yifan pushes five little pieces towards him as he talks and Junmyeon sets the dragon down next to him – gently, gently, _so gently_ – to examine them. They look a little like pawns from chess and Junmyeon bites his lip at the anxiety starting to grow in his stomach. He honestly, truly lost a game of chess to a second-grader back in college; he’ll never get to ask a single question if senet is even distantly related to chess.

Junmyeon looks back up to see Yifan staring at him with something like hope in his eyes and Junmyeon feels a strange urge to make the demon smile again, nodding before he can stop himself. He forgets how to breathe again when Yifan grins at him like he pulls the sun down from the sky every night and launches into an explanation about the rules of senet and how he wants to play their little add-on question game. Junmyeon gets to ask a question every time he moves one of his five pieces off the board and scores a point, while he has to answer a question when Yifan does. How Junmyeon gets his pieces off the board is a mystery because Yifan is talking so fast Junmyeon can barely keep up, but he decides he’ll just make things up as he goes.

“I’ll answer your questions about deals before we start though,” Yifan says as he sets up both of their pieces. Junmyeon had attempted to place his own on the board, but Yifan hummed and took the pieces from him with that fond look on his face that makes Junmyeon feel like his face is on fire. “You asked before I brought up the game; I think it’s only fair that I answer it before we start. You look so excited, Junmyeon. If I knew that telling you about myself would make you happy I would’ve done it weeks ago.”

They both freeze and Junmyeon’s face feels as red as Yifan’s looks. Things become so awkward between them so fast and Junmyeon doesn’t have a clue as to why. That traitorous, impulsive, curious part of him knows exactly why he feels so awkward and floaty when Yifan admits that he wants to make Junmyeon happy, but he buries it as deep down as it will go. Those are feelings for him to analyze at another time, a time when he’s alone and fully ready to use his incredible powers of denial.

The idea of powers reminds him that they’re supposed to be discussing Yifan’s. The demon unfreezes with a forced laugh and takes a deep breath before he finally speaks, “I am half-bred demon of sorts. There are a handful of different kinds of demons, and I am the by-product of the most and least common. Luhan, Yixing, and I all fall into the, I guess, warrior category. We are bred, essentially, to do well in battle. Luhan and Yixing are terrifyingly brilliant war strategists and we each possess another power to aid us in hand-to-hand combat. I won’t share theirs, as it is deeply secretive, but I can and have manifested wings.” Yifan stops and tenses up as if he’s waiting for a negative reaction.

Before moving into this house, Junmyeon would’ve ran for his life if a strange man said he could manifest wings, if Junmyeon even believed him in the first place. After everything that’s happened, he just feels curious, “I know you said it’s personal, but could you maybe…show me sometime?”

Yifan relaxes and gives Junmyeon his widest smile yet, eyes softening, “Yeah, of course. Yixing has a place where he and Luhan go to train, I could take you and Zitao sometime.” There’s a beat of oddly comfortable silence before Yifan speaks again and Junmyeon realizes that he’s honestly, truly enjoying spending time with the demon. The back-and-forth between them is easier than nearly any he’s ever experienced and Junmyeon feels like he could sit here, just enjoying the atmosphere and the way Yifan smiles for hours.

That feeling doesn’t dissipate when Yifan starts talking again, rather, it transforms and expands into a sort of captivation with the ups and downs of Yifan’s voice and the way he explains his powers. “As I said, I’m a sort of hybrid. While I am, for nearly all intents and purposes, the same type of demon as Yixing and Luhan, my powers and abilities are far more varied. I don’t know what a crossroads demon is, but if they are demons who can wield unlimited powers for the right price, then I would say that they are similar to what I am.

 “You’ve had firsthand experience with what I can do when I make a deal,” Yifan’s eyes flash fluorescent red for a moment and Junmyeon has distinct flashback of three tally marks of that same color on his living room wall, “Deals can become very complicated once the logistics, various loopholes, and stipulations are brought in, but the basics are that you state what you want to get out of the deal, I state my price, and if you agree to it then the deal is made and we both get what we asked for. If you renege on the deal, I take back what I gave you with interest.”

The image of Yifan taking Zitao back flashes through Junmyeon’s mind before he realizes that Yifan wouldn’t harm Zitao if someone paid him. There are many things that Yifan could likely do if Junmyeon hasn’t already paid his part of the deal back, but he knows without a doubt that harming Zitao is not one of them. Junmyeon doesn’t remember Yifan ever stating a price, but he’d been so hopped up on terror and adrenaline that a fucking cow could have walked through the living room and he probably wouldn’t have noticed.

Junmyeon would have to notice if the price was something substantial, right? But he got three things out of the deal, one of which involved bring the dead back to life, so Yifan’s price had to have been something of equal value. Junmyeon wonders if the prices are based on Yifan’s wants and wishes or if there’s something standardized. The logistics of what Yifan might have priced his demands at give him the beginnings of a headache and now he understands why Yifan only gave him the basics.

“Your move,” Yifan startles him out his thoughts. Junmyeon looks down at the board and realizes he has no idea what move Yifan made or what he’s supposed to do in response. He picks up a piece and watches Yifan’s face carefully for any sign that he’s doing this right. The demon smiles smugly when Junmyeon moves his piece to the right, so he pulls it back quickly and starts inching it in other directions. Junmyeon gets a lost in watching Yifan’s facial expressions shift, a little annoyed by how the demon doesn’t seem to have a single ugly expression, and he ends up just holding his piece above the board like an idiot.

Yifan looks up in confusion after a few moments and something like realization sparks in his eyes when he meets Junmyeon’s gaze. Junmyeon, terrified of being caught cheating – it had been his whole idea to cheat with Zitao at UNO because he’s a tricky little monster – drops the piece on a random square in his haste to make it look like he was just contemplating his moves.

“You little cheater,” Yifan exclaims, “I can’t believe you!” Junmyeon feels his cheeks heat up as he tries to fight down a silly smile. The demon has a look of mock outrage on his face, brow furrowed in anger but the corners of his mouth twitching like he’s fighting a smile as well.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Junmyeon means for it to come out somber and serious, but he giggles his way through the sentence and just manages to restrain himself from sticking his tongue out at Yifan like a child. Yifan growls playfully, two fingers pointing between them to say _I’m watching you_ before he moves his piece and stares down at the board with a stoic expression.

Junmyeon guesses his way through three more moves, pieces doing an odd kind of line dance up and down the board. Yifan snickers every time he hesitates to put his piece down, flying through his own moves like he already has the entire game planned out. What neither of them had planned is for Junmyeon to move one of his pieces off the board and score a point.

“Did I do that right? Does that count? Did I win?!”

Yifan looks between the piece sitting innocently in Junmyeon’s hand and the board before groaning and burying his face in his hands. “Yes,” the demon sounds like it causes him real physical pain to admit it, “You scored a point, though I have no idea _how_.” He breaks off into bitter mumbling while Junmyeon has to restrain himself from squirming in excitement. Junmyeon doesn’t know how he scored a point either, but he’s not one to a look a gift horse in the mouth.

The issue now is that he has to decide which of the questions bouncing around in his mind he wants to ask first. There are few stupid ones, like why does Yifan drink all the milk and then not tell him that they’re out, but many of them are ones he’s had since he first discovered that Yifan existed. Junmyeon knows _what_ Yifan is and has a basic idea of _where_ he’s from. Despite only knowing the demon for a few weeks, he feels like he is an expert on _who_ Yifan is as well – someone who willing partakes in tea parties with their son’s toy panda and favorite racecar and drinks all the fucking milk. Junmyeon has a million and one things that he wants to know though, and picking just one is a little like trying to solve a Rubik’s cube blindfolded.

“Junmyeon? Are you going to ask me something or just sit there and look pretty?” Junmyeon’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline and Yifan looks a little like he wants to fling himself out the window. For both of their sakes, Junmyeon ignores it, though he can’t ignore the little bubble of happiness that blooms in his chest at being called ‘pretty’.

“How old are you?”

All the tension drains out of the room and the corners of Yifan’s mouth rise in gratitude. The demon looks pensive, gaze flickering back to his bookshelves full or artifacts like it’s going to blurt out a calendar year or number. “Give or take a few years because of how things were dated differently back before the B.C. and A.D. standardization? I’d guess I surfaced in southern China around three thousand five hundred and fifty years ago. Luhan kept far better records than I did, so he might have a different answer.”

Junmyeon sits in shocked silence until Yifan reaches over to gently shut his jaw. Baekhyun being half a millenium old he can handle, but Yifan has been around longer than written history. From what he remembers from the only history class he’d been forced to take back in college, Yifan was born – came in to existence? Junmyeon doesn’t actually know how demons are created – before the first alphabet was ever created, before Tutankhamun was born. It’s incredible; the things Yifan has seen, the memories stored in his head, they’re things that no one on Earth, aside from other demons that don’t matter to Junmyeon, could possibly know. Yet, all he can think to say in response is, “Wow, you’re old.”

Junmyeon would have wanted to snatch his words back out of the air if it weren’t for how Yifan erupts into laughter. Yifan’s full-bodied laughter, not the soft exhales of air that make up the majority of the demon’s ‘laugh,’ is loud and high-pitched and silly in and of itself. It makes Junmyeon start to giggle as well until they’re both out of breath and wiping stray tears away. When Yifan recovers his gaze melts into something fond and warm and it makes something in Junmyeon’s gut burn. “I’m actually on the younger side of demons. I’ve met a few demons that surfaced back when the first human beings picked up enough brain function to be of use.”

Yifan doesn’t wait for Junmyeon to process the information before moving one of his pieces off the board and leveling the other man with a triumphant smirk. Junmyeon is still reeling from the idea of demons that have been around since the dawn of humanity; he doesn’t have the mental capacity to understand that Yifan just scored a point so he’s a bit shocked when Yifan asks him what his favorite movies are.

The demon watches him expectantly while he scrambles to remember even one movie title. He’s seen so many in his lifetime, why is it so difficult to remember one now? “Mulan!” Except that’s not his favorite movie, it’s Zitao’s. While Junmyeon is unashamed to admit that he enjoys that movie more than a grown man should, he only watches it every other night because Zitao can’t get enough of Mushu. Yifan knows, and Junmyeon knows that Yifan knows, that it’s Zitao’s favorite movie, but the demon doesn’t do anything besides raise an eyebrow in disbelief. “Daddy Daycare?” Nope, another one of Zitao’s favorites. Yifan sighs and motions for Junmyeon to take his next turn.

They continue on in comfortable silence. Yifan stretches his stupidly long legs out until they are nearly in Junmyeon’s space, which leads Junmyeon trying to push Yifan’s feet back with his own and nearly knocks the board over. They’re not really doing anything besides playing a very slow game of twenty questions and having a very intense foot battle, but it’s some of the most non-child related fun Junmyeon’s had in a long time.

Yifan’s question about his favorite movies and the subsequent struggle to remember a single movie managed to knock all of Junmyeon’s carefully organized questions out of his head. When he finally manages to score another point, he is utterly lost on what to ask. Yifan’s question aren’t deep or all that prying either, but the demon seems to know exactly what he wants to ask.

 _Point._ “When did you meet Luhan and Yixing?”

“Luhan and I surfaced together and we met Yixing about five hundred years later.” _Point._ “How long has Minseok been your best friend and why?”

Junmyeon wants to call Yifan out on asking two questions disguised as one but bites his tongue because it means that he can do it too. “Since his fourth birthday when my two-year-old-self managed to sneak into his backyard and eat almost all of his cake. He thought it was cool that a toddler could eat that much.”

 _Point._ Junmyeon sighs as Yifan scores two points in a row and grins smugly. “Did you originally want children before Zitao?”

“Yeah, not like I needed to a kid right then and there, but I knew that I wanted one someday. I guess someday came a little sooner than I expected.” Junmyeon smiles softly to himself as he remembers Zitao fast asleep just a floor below him. Children and a husband had always been written down as the distant future, but Junmyeon is more than happy that that distant future came early. He ignores how easily he slotted Yifan into the role of husband for the sake of his own sanity. If Yifan notices the pink that has risen to his cheeks, he doesn’t say anything and Junmyeon is unendingly thankful.

He turns back to the game. _Point._ “How long were you trapped in the house and why?”

“That’s two questions, Junmyeon.” Yifan winks cheekily like he didn’t just ask two questions disguised as one. Junmyeon opens his mouth to tell him exactly that but Yifan beats him, “To answer your question that is actually part of the rules,” Junmyeon considers throwing one of his pieces at Yifan’s face to spite him, “I was sealed in nineteen forty-seven, twenty years before Zitao showed up, so around seventy years.”

Yifan was alone for twenty years before Zitao came along. A little piece of Junmyeon’s heart breaks as he imagines the demon wandering the house with only himself for company for two entire decades. “That must have been so lonely,” Junmyeon has to repress the urge to reach out to Yifan when sadness flashes across his face.

“It doesn’t really matter anymore. I’ve got you and Zitao twenty-four-seven. Now, I’m going to take my turn and ignore your rule-breaking. If you want me to answer your other question, score another point and don’t try to cheat the system.” Yifan’s voice is light and joking, but his faces twists in discomfort and anxiety when he mentions the other question. Junmyeon doesn’t know what it is about the circumstances of Yifan being ‘sealed’ into the house that makes the demon so uncomfortable, but it’s almost painfully obvious that he doesn’t want Junmyeon to find out.

Sadly for him, Junmyeon has a curiosity that he just can’t shake. Luhan and Yixing have alluded to a mysterious ‘they’ that had something to do with seals. Chanyeol, a man nearly as tall as Yifan with shocking red hair that Junmyeon sees wandering around the neighborhood on occasion, is apparently supposed to be watching the house and making sure no one suspicious comes by. Junmyeon knows that whoever they’re all looking out for has something to do with Yifan being trapped in the house back in nineteen forty-seven, and he would very much like to know the people who are likely going to attempt to break into his house this time.

Yifan takes his turn and doesn’t score a point. When Junmyeon goes to move his pieces, he picks one up at random and nearly places it down before he sees that there’s one piece all alone right next to the space that allows him to move it off the board and score a point. He returns the piece in his hand back to the board and glances up at Yifan. The demon follows the movement of Junmyeon’s hand with vested interest, eyebrows shooting up when he sees Junmyeon reaching for the other piece. Just before Junmyeon manages to grab it, another hand snatches it off the board.

“Yifan, that’s cheating,” Junmyeon most certainly doesn’t whine as he attempts to grab his piece back from the demon.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, this is mine.” Yifan has already raised his stupidly long arm above his head, however, and Junmyeon can’t hope to reach it from where he’s sitting. There’s something like glee sparkling in Yifan’s eyes as he laughs, and Junmyeon is hit with the irrefutable knowledge that one, he’s never felt so comfortable with someone before, and two, Yifan is one of the most handsome people he’s ever met.

Something outrageously stupid clicks in his brain and suddenly Junmyeon is up and over the senet board. Yifan’s laugh cuts off in a choked gasp when he finds himself with a lap full of Junmyeon. The second Junmyeon’s ass touches Yifan’s thighs, whatever had possessed him disappears and leaves him embarrassed and straddling a demon. The only thing that makes him feel even the slightest bit better is the fact that Yifan has completely frozen underneath him and is turning pink in his cheeks and the tips of his ears. They’re eye-to-eye and Junmyeon wonders when this exact shade of brown became so beautiful to him.

Yifan’s hand holding the piece is still raised above his head but the other settles on Junmyeon’s waist – to stabilize him? Junmyeon doesn’t know why but he can find it in him to complain about the large, warm palm resting on his side. His heart is racing in his chest and Junmyeon is suddenly aware of all the timid smiles, all the fond glances that they risk at each other when they think the other isn’t looking, how easily Yifan has slid into his life like there was always a space just waiting for him. How long had they been dancing around each other like this? Rumbling starts up in the back of mind as he replays the way that voice whispered in his ear. _Yifan’s_ voice calling him _darling_ like it’s his name and choking on it now like it’s taboo.

There’s nothing dreamlike or stupid or unconscious about what Junmyeon does next it. It’s the product of feeling like he belongs here, in the the house, in Yifan’s lap, and realization that he _wants_. He wants everything the demon is willing to give him. That doesn’t mean his hands aren’t shaking when they fall to grip Yifan’s shoulders or his heart isn’t beating so fast he’s scared it might give out, it just means that when Junmyeon leans in and presses his lips to Yifan’s he knows that it’s exactly what he wants to do.

He’s scared for a second that he is completely, devastatingly wrong when Yifan gasps and surprise and doesn’t kiss him back, but then there’s the sound of wood clacking against wood and a large hand is cradling the back of his head and pulling him in closer. Junmyeon’s not entirely inexperienced in romantic endeavors, he’s kissed his fair share of boys in his life, but he had never met someone who kisses like Yifan before. Yifan kisses him like the demon might actually die if they stop, not rough or sloppy, but there’s desperation in every slide of their lips. No one has never kissed Junmyeon like this and now that Yifan has, he’s almost worried that no other kiss will ever satisfy him. Not like he plans on ever finding another person to kiss after this.

When they finally pull back because Junmyeon’s human lungs can only go so long without air, Yifan looks as fucked up as Junmyeon feels. His lips are swollen and wet and Junmyeon just knows that his own are going to be bruised by the end of the night. Yifan’s eyes are hooded and there’s something dark and predatory and _feral_ lingering in his gaze. A shiver runs down Junmyeon’s spine and he wonders for a second if there’s something wrong with him, then Yifan leans in again and all rational thought flies right out the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! If you did, I would love it if you were so kind as to leave a kudos and a comment or come talk to me at on [ Twitter. ](https://twitter.com/killmeDO) I also opened up a [ Curious Cat ](https://curiouscat.me/killmeDO) please come ask questions about the story or anything else! (I love talking to you guys and I would love to hear what you think of this story!)


	12. XII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING WARNING WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS MENTIONS OF A FORM OF NONCON/DUBCON. IF THIS TOPIC DISTURBS YOU AND YOU DO NOT WANT TO READ THIS CHAPTER, PLEASE DM ME ON TWITTER AND I WILL GIVE YOU THE DETAILS OF WHAT HAPPENED.
> 
> Thank you all for all the support and kind comments (lots of screaming and tears...are yall okay???) on last chapter! I hope this chapter continues to entertain...because it has what a few of you have been asking for. I hope I do it justice. It has felt a little clunky to me since I wrote it, but months of fiddling hasn't done a damn thing lmao.
> 
> Also you might have noticed that there's more in this series now, it's because I posted the [baekxing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14713338/chapters/34003887) installment/companion/spinoff of this story! The first chapter is up and the rest will be posted after this is finished being uploaded! 
> 
> As always, thank you [Aarushi](https://twitter.com/AarushiC_18) for being my beta <3

Why is his bed so fucking hot in the middle of fall? He knows that Zitao tends to radiate heat like a furnace, but that doesn’t explain the all-consuming warmth surrounding him on both sides. Junmyeon squirms as if maybe he can physically wiggle the heat away. It doesn’t work, unsurprisingly, but there is something surprising about the heavy weight around his middle holding him down. He reaches down to push the weight off but freezes when his hand meets skin.

Junmyeon opens his eyes and immediately regrets it, squinting against the late morning sun. When his eyes finally adjust, all he can see is Zitao sleeping peacefully beside him, breathing hot puffs of air in his face. Junmyeon takes a moment to lean in close and kiss the tip of his son’s nose. It crinkles cutely and Zitao makes a little noise of confusion at the sensation. It’s these moments when Junmyeon can take the time to dote on his little boy that make him really believe that there’s some supernatural being looking out for him. That or he saved several orphanages in a past life and this is his reward. Either way, he gets to spend his mornings cuddling Zitao to his heart’s content and he knows where the heat at his front is coming from.

Junmyeon looks down to where his hand is still resting against skin and sees a forearm and the beginnings of a hand that disappears under his shirt. He hadn’t noticed it at first, but now he’s painfully aware of the large hand splayed across his stomach. It’s Yifan, of course. It takes a bit of maneuvering, but Junmyeon manages to turn around enough to get a good look at the demon curled around him.

Yifan sleeps with his mouth wide open. He looks ridiculous and gentle and nothing like the imposing demon Junmyeon first met. His lips look a little bruised from the night before and it makes Junmyeon want to kiss him again. He remembers asking Yifan to come in and sleep with him when Yifan walked him back to his bedroom last night, exhausted from being kissed within an inch of his life. Sleepy Junmyeon is known for making questionable decisions, but this not one of them. He had been completely honest when he decided that he wanted everything Yifan would give him – like hour long make-out sessions because they’re both insatiable teenagers apparently – and while the warmth at his back had been odd to wake up to, it’s comforting now that Junmyeon knows where it’s coming from.

This needs to become _something_. Junmyeon got attached, really attached to Yifan somewhere along the way and he wants to keep him. He wants to wake up every morning to the hot line of Yifan at his back and learn how to actually play senet and hear the million and one stories that are locked up in Yifan’s brain. Junmyeon recalls Baekhyun’s words about demons having humans that are their literal soulmates and it makes something deep in his chest ache. The idea of Yifan leaving him and running off with another faceless person has the hand resting on Yifan’s arm trailing down to intertwine their fingers together.

Maybe if he’s lucky, Yifan won’t find his human until long after Junmyeon is gone and they’ll just be this odd little family for the rest of his life. He’s not in love, he knows he’s not in love. Junmyeon just really wants to see where this thing between them can go and if where it goes is forever, he’s not going to complain.

Yifan mumbles in his sleep, something in Chinese that Junmyeon can’t even hope to understand, and then rolls so that he’s essentially a second blanket on top of Junmyeon. He doesn’t even seem to notice or care about how his arm is trapped between their stomachs. It would be cute if Yifan wasn’t so damn heavy. Junmyeon squirms underneath his weight, giggling a little at sheer absurdity of it all; Yifan just wraps himself tighter around Junmyeon and grumbles against Junmyeon’s neck. The hand not pressed almost painfully into his stomach sneaks under his head and Junmyeon can feel Yifan’s fingers curling into the hairs at the back of his skull.

Junmyeon has a distinct memory of that hand at the back of his head the night before, pulling him in close and tipping his head to the side to give Yifan access to his neck. The position they’re in reminds him too much of how Yifan had hiked him up further on his lap and kissed him breathless. It’s entirely inappropriate considering that Zitao is snoring softly next to them, so Junmyeon shoves at Yifan with all his strength.

“Mmm,” Yifan shifts up onto his elbow, brow furrowed in annoyance when his face comes into view. The anger melts away when they lock eyes and a dopey smile crosses Yifan’s face. He leans down to press their lips together and Junmyeon accepts it gladly. Junmyeon waits for a gut feeling to kick in and tell him that he’s just setting himself up for heartache. It didn’t come last night when Yifan kissed him and it doesn’t come now.

He thinks Yifan tries to ask him why he woke him up when the demon pulls back, but it comes out, “Why ‘m I ‘wake, d’rlin’?” Junmyeon squirms in response and Yifan looks down at where his body has essentially covered Junmyeon’s with a look of mild surprise. “Ah,” Yifan nods to himself and then suddenly the world is tilting on its axis. It rights itself after a second or two and Junmyeon realizes that he’s lying half on top of Yifan, resettled so that his head is resting right above Yifan’s heart. “Better?”

Junmyeon doesn’t really know what to say and Yifan takes his silence as an affirmative. He’s not really all that tired anymore, thoughts of losing Yifan to someone else still lingering in the back of his mind, but Yifan’s fingers in his hair and heartbeat under his ear lull him into an odd kind of doze.

A loud, nearly violent thud echoes through the house and the fingers in his hair freeze. It comes again and again and again. Junmyeon sits up when Yifan gently urges him off his chest and they share a look of concern. They don’t get visitors without some sort of notice ahead of time, and no one would knock on their door like they’re trying to break it down. The knocking doesn’t stop, only gets faster and louder, and Zitao starts to stir.

Junmyeon quickly scoops Zitao up into his lap and shushes him when he starts to wake. Yifan rolls out of bed with a supernatural grace and peeks his head out into the hallway. He motions for Junmyeon to follow and tugs him into his side when the human gets close enough. “Stay close and try to keep Zitao calm. If something happens, I want you to run through the backyard to the house with massive rose bushes; Chanyeol has set up base there and he’ll keep you safe until I can come and get you.”

It hadn’t occurred to Junmyeon that they might be in actual danger until that moment. Then again, why wouldn’t they be in danger? Yifan had distracted him from finding out why the demon was sealed into the house in the first place with kisses, so he has no idea who or what could be at his door. Junmyeon stays as close as he can without bumping into Yifan. Zitao is thankfully in that odd space between asleep and awake and doesn’t do much besides cling to Junmyeon’s sleepshirt and stare at the world around him in confusion. That doesn’t stop Junmyeon mumbling constant reassurances into his hair, but it feels like he’s saying them for himself and not for Zitao.

Yifan walks right up to the front door and looks through the tiny peephole, the door vibrating a little with each thud. Junmyeon takes a few steps back when the demon’s entire body tenses, and gets ready to run. Then Yifan relaxes and turns around with one eyebrow raised in confusion, “It’s Minseok, and he looks kind of… terrified?”

“Wait, what?” Minseok showing up unannounced isn’t all that farfetched of an idea, but there’s never been this kind of urgency or franticness to his appearances before.

Yifan shrugs and pulls the door open, “Minseok? Are you-”

He doesn’t have time to finish his sentence before Minseok is barreling past him to almost collapse against Junmyeon. Junmyeon wants to be annoyed when Minseok nearly knocks Zitao out of his arms, but then he feels how the other man is trembling, shaking so badly Junmyeon is surprised that he’s holding his own weight up at all. “Take Zitao,” Yifan tugs the little boy into his arms, gently shushing the whine of complaint that follows, before Junmyeon eases himself and Minseok to the floor.

“Minnie, I need you to talk to me, are you okay?” Minseok doesn’t respond, doesn’t do anything but shake. Junmyeon can feel his shirt growing damp under Minseok’s face and he pulls his best friend in as close as he can. The other man is whimpering softly, small broken sounds that Junmyeon can barely hear, even in the silence. He has never seen Minseok like this, not even on his worst days. Junmyeon doesn’t know what to do in the face of Minseok’s breakdown and so he holds him as tight as he can and pushes down his own tears.

Yifan crouches down to whisper in Junmyeon’s ear when Zitao starts waking up, pressing a soft kiss to his temple before he speaks, “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.” Junmyeon nods because as much as he doesn’t want Yifan to leave him to handle this alone, he doesn’t want to Zitao to see it even more.

The second Yifan and Zitao disappear into the kitchen, Minseok sobs so hard it shakes him and Junmyeon both. “Hurts,” he whispers.

Junmyeon starts to press gently wherever he can reach, checking Minseok’s clothes for blood, “Where does it hurt?” He considers calling for Yifan to get him the car keys so he can drive to the hospital but holds off. If what Minseok needed was medical attention, he would already be at the ER. That knowledge doesn’t make watching Minseok tremble and cry any easier though.

It takes a few seconds, minutes, hours – Junmyeon’s sense of time feels like it’s been knocked off-kilter by the adrenaline so he has no clue how long it actually takes – until Minseok gestures weakly towards his shoulder. Junmyeon barely lays his fingertips against the skin through Minseok’s sweater, but the other man flinches and chokes on a sob like Junmyeon hit him. It doesn’t look like there’s anything wrong with the shoulder itself, no blood, no irregularities or odd shapes like it’s been knocked out of its socket. Junmyeon moves his fingers to the actual blade of Minseok’s shoulder and nothing happens. The ball of his shoulder is the same way. It’s not until Junmyeon starts to touch the slope between Minseok’s neck and shoulder that his best friend nearly rips himself backwards and away and that’s when Junmyeon realizes something is _really_ wrong.

“I’m just going to take a look, okay?” It’s like talking to a skittish animal and not a man Junmyeon has known his whole life. Minseok nods against his chest and shifts a little, giving Junmyeon better access to gently, gently, _gently_ move the collar of his sweater over to peek at Minseok’s shoulder. The fabric sliding against his skin is enough to make Minseok tense and tighten his grip on Junmyeon against the pain. Junmyeon starts talking, mumbling about anything and everything to try and keep Minseok focused on him and not the apparently unbearable pain radiating from his shoulder.

Junmyeon is being so careful his hands are nearly shaking from the tension. He keeps one eye on Minseok’s face once his best friend turns his head. He’s pale, eyes fluttering like he’s so tired he can barely stand it and Junmyeon is pretty sure that the pain is the only thing keeping Minseok from falling asleep right here and now. Junmyeon looks back down to where his hand is pulling at Minseok’s collar at a glacial pace and freezes.

Teeth marks. Those are scabbed over teeth marks on the junction of Minseok’s neck and shoulder. Junmyeon has a distinct flash of similar marks on Baekhyun, though his were shiny with scar tissue and nothing like the angry red indentations Junmyeon is looking at now. These are fresh, probably less than a day old, and Junmyeon wonders what the fuck happened to Minseok in the few hours they’d been apart.

“Yifan,” he calls because he knows exactly what these teeth marks mean and he can’t deal with this on his own. When Yifan doesn’t come, he calls again, higher and a little frantic and the demon is popping his head out of the kitchen instantaneously. Yifan’s eyes widen in surprise when he takes a few steps closer and sees the bite still partially hidden by Minseok’s shirt. It had never occurred to Junmyeon that Yifan might care about Minseok, they just never interacted enough for him to ever take notice of their odd relationship through him, but the demon’s face creases with worry when Minseok whimpers in pain.

Yifan nudges Junmyeon’s fingers out of the way to pull the collar back himself and expose the wound in full. It’s a grotesque circle of impressions and Junmyeon is pretty sure that he could count the teeth if he really wanted to; it looks painful, but not so painful that Minseok should be having full-body flinches from a mere brush of fingers. Junmyeon waits for Yifan to say something, anything, about what’s happening to Minseok or what they can do to make him better, but the demon just nods to himself like he’s satisfied with what he sees and walks away.

Junmyeon is ready to yell after him, tell Yifan to come back and do something or at least tell him what’s going on, but then Yifan darts into Junmyeon’s room and comes back out with his cellphone. The second he puts it to his ear he starts speaking in Chinese too fast for Junmyeon to follow with the few words they’ve taught him, not that _food_ or _I love you_ are going to be of any use. Junmyeon does recognize Yixing’s name though. He might have a mild distrust of the demon, but Yixing means Baekhyun and Junmyeon would be more than happy for Baekhyun’s presence.

“Minseok will be fine in a few minutes,” Yifan barely hangs up before turning his attention back to Junmyeon, “Yixing and Baekhyun got a call from him not even half an hour ago and they told him that Minseok would likely be here, so he’s already on his way. Hopefully with Baekhyun and Yixing on his heels.” Junmyeon’s least favorite thing about horror movies or movies with any kind of plot twist, is the idea of using pronouns where a person’s name should go. He finds that he’s not very happy with it in real life either. There’s something about the way Yifan mumbles the last part mostly to himself that makes Junmyeon think that he’s using pronouns for a damn good reason.

“Who is ‘he’?” Yifan blanches and suddenly won’t look Junmyeon in the eye. “Yifan,” Junmyeon trails off in a warning. The demon stares pointedly at the space just to the side of Junmyeon’s head and doesn’t say anything. That doesn’t mean he can’t feel Junmyeon’s eyes on him and he squirms uncomfortably. Being able to make a demon older than recorded history squirm like a scolded child would be a little satisfying for Junmyeon if it wasn’t for Minseok still lying on his chest with a bite wound on his neck and a mysterious ‘he’ en route to their house.

Just when Junmyeon sees Yifan start to break, “Baba, I finished my cereal! Can I have more?” Yifan gets up and darts into the kitchen, relief flashing across his face at the exit. Junmyeon shouts for him to come back, but Yifan plays deaf and hides in the kitchen like a dog with its tail between its legs. If it weren’t for Minseok, Junmyeon would be up and chasing after Yifan’s cowardly ass.

Minseok isn’t shaking as hard anymore and is starting to look a little more aware of his surroundings. Junmyeon tries to support the man’s attempt to sit up on his own, but the movement must have made his shirt brush against the bite because Minseok makes a noise of pain and his arms give out. Junmyeon swears as he’s forced to rebalance and not send both of them tipping over. Living away from Minseok and his penchant for sitting on Junmyeon’s legs when he’s laying down on the couch made Junmyeon forget how fucking heavy Minseok and all of his muscles are.

He has just managed to get himself righted when the front door slams open and startles a scream out of him. Junmyeon can see Yifan poke his head out of the kitchen at the sound and grimacing. Yifan idles in the archway for a moment like he’s not sure if it’s safe to come out and Junmyeon can’t imagine what has him so scared.

“Where is he!?” _That_ is why Yifan looks like he’s afraid Junmyeon might tear him a new one if he gets too close. Luhan has a white-knuckled grip on the front door, eyes darting around wildly and something twisting his facial features into just off the border of human. His eyes narrow when they land on Junmyeon and Minseok curled up together on the floor and his mouth curls into a frown. Junmyeon tightens his grip on Minseok reflexively and stares back at Luhan in challenge.

For all that Junmyeon doesn’t enjoy Yixing’s company, it’s nothing compared to the distaste he feels towards Luhan. He hasn’t forgotten about the demon’s rude behavior, especially the things said about Zitao, and the idea of Luhan leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

Luhan ignores him for the most part, the only sign that he notices Junmyeon’s existence being a deepening of the demon’s frown when Junmyeon pulls Minseok a little closer. Luhan kneels down next to Junmyeon and worms his hands around Minseok’s waist like he’s going to pull him out of Junmyeon’s arms. Junmyeon doesn’t have time to protest before Minseok mumbles something that sounds a lot like ‘no’ and gives a weak struggle. Junmyeon attempts to turn himself and Minseok away from Luhan, but Minseok is much too heavy and Luhan is much too strong.

“Let go,” Luhan finally looks Junmyeon in the eye and gives a strong tug. Junmyeon doesn’t have a chance of holding on against the force and watches helplessly as Luhan settles against the opposite wall with Minseok in his lap. Out of the corner of his eye, Junmyeon can see Yifan inching his way closer with what looks like breakfast as some sort of peace offering. He can deal with Yifan’s apparent terror of his wrath later when he’s not trying to keep his best friend safe from a demon that, unlike Yifan, is not a being made up gentle hands and soft eyes.

Or, at least, that’s what Junmyeon thought. Luhan is maneuvering Minseok around so that the human is able to rest a little more comfortably against his shoulder, one hand smoothing Minseok’s hair back while the other slips under Minseok’s collar to poke at the teeth marks Luhan left behind. Junmyeon gets ready to smack Luhan’s hand away, supernatural powers be damned, because if gentle brushes make Minseok flinch then Junmyeon can’t even imagine what Luhan’s prodding will do.

But Minseok doesn’t cry out in pain or throw himself bodily out of Luhan’s arms like Junmyeon expects, instead he lets out a heavy sigh as all the tension in his body bleeds out at once. “Were you trying to pick at it,” Luhan murmurs so quietly Junmyeon has to strain his ears to catch it, “it’s all red and irritated.” Junmyeon watches in a kind of horrified awe as Minseok’s eyes start to slip shut. Logically, he knows that it’s likely the rush of endorphins from the pain and the exhaustion mixing together pulling Minseok into unconsciousness, but it doesn’t make the sight of Luhan soothing Minseok to sleep go down any easier.

Yifan appears by Junmyeon’s side and urges him to stand with an arm around his waist, plate of food balanced in his other hand. Junmyeon doesn’t want to leave Minseok alone with Luhan for a single second but Yifan is insistent and strong and able to lift Junmyeon to his feet with one arm alone. Luhan doesn’t do anything to acknowledge that they even exist, just stares at Minseok disgustingly fond.

“Luhan,” Yifan calls once he’s moved Junmyeon a few steps away. He gestures to the stairs when Luhan finally looks up from Minseok’s face, “you can take him up to my study if you need some space. Zitao will want to play with M-i-n-s-e-o-k if he finds out that he’s here.” Junmyeon doesn’t say anything to the effect of Zitao being five years old and knowing how to spell or that he’ll let Minseok go anywhere with Luhan over his dead body because he’s afraid of waking his best friend, so he pins Yifan with a look that says it all for him.

Luhan smiles down at Minseok almost pleasantly when the human grumbles something and shifts and Junmyeon finds it downright disturbing. “I’m going to head back to my apartment. He hasn’t eaten all day and he needs rest.” He starts to stand and Junmyeon has to blink a few times to make sure that he’s seeing Luhan, built lithe and lean, lift Minseok’s not insubstantial weight. “Junmyeon. Yifan. Tell Zitao that we’ll stop by once Minseok is feeling better.” Luhan nods at each of them in turn and then in the general direction of the kitchen.

Yifan nods in return and suddenly Junmyeon has a plate of food in his hands and is being steered back towards the kitchen. His brain whirls with the sudden change in direction and it takes him a second to get his bearings again. When he’s finally all back together, he notices the odd sense of urgency in the way Yifan pushes him towards the kitchen with a hand at the small of his back. That’s also when he realizes that Luhan is planning to take Minseok with him back to an apartment where Junmyeon won’t be. Junmyeon is very very glad that his son is out of earshot because he lets out a particularly colorful string of words as he shoves the plate back at Yifan and ducks out of the demon’s reach.

“Put Minseok down or I swear to fucking god I’ll call the police for kidnapping!” Junmyeon somehow manages to make it to the front door before Luhan – the demon is moving turtle slow to make sure Minseok isn’t jostled but Junmyeon willfully ignores that – and blocks the exit with his body.

Luhan blinks slowly like he’s trying to take it all in and then his face loses that softness it’s had since he got Minseok in his arms. Junmyeon locks the deadbolt behind him for good measure and tries not to let the fact that he’s standing up to a creature that could likely snap his spine with one hand get to him. “Yifan,” Luhan sighs through his nose and Junmyeon can see bits of red start to flicker in his eyes, “Move your human before you lose your human. I don’t have patience for stupidity.”

Junmyeon would like to think that he had become tougher since meeting Yifan and being integrated into this world of demons and ghosts, but he hasn’t. He’s absolutely terrified of Luhan and how casually he talks about ending Junmyeon’s life. His fear has to show on his face but Luhan pays it no mind, flashing canines that look longer than they really should. Yifan puts himself between Luhan and Junmyeon and there’s safety in his presence that makes Junmyeon a little less terrified. Things turn tense and dangerous and Junmyeon hopes that Zitao keeps himself entertained with his cereal and panda bear.

“You don’t talk to him like that,” Minseok, to their surprise, breaks the silence, eyes open but unfocused and horribly confused as he attempts to get his feet back on the ground. Luhan has him bridal-style though, and Junmyeon winces from behind the wall of Yifan’s body when the man nearly throws himself face first into the ground. “Put me down.”

“Easy, easy, Minseok, you’re going to hurt yourself,” Luhan makes a helpless noise and does a bit of maneuvering to set Minseok upright, though his knees buckle the second has to support any of his own weight and Luhan has to keep him up anyway. Junmyeon is a little taken aback by the unnamable emotion in Luhan’s gaze. He feels like he’s seen it somewhere in Yifan’s.

Something like hurt flashes across his face when Minseok weakly bats at the hands helping to keep him standing, “Let me go. I don’t understand.” Luhan doesn’t let go, despite how much Junmyeon and Minseok wish he would.

“Shh,” Luhan tries to soothe, but Minseok is a little more cognizant and he won’t let himself relax. Junmyeon wants to move forward and help Minseok worm his way free, but Yifan keeps him stationary and useless with one hand fisted in his shirt. Finally, Luhan grabs Minseok by the waist and lifts him until his feet are just off the ground, rendering him essentially helpless in a way that makes Junmyeon’s blood boil. “Baekhyun was right,” Luhan groans out as Minseok struggles against his chest, “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. Why was this so easy for Jackson?”

“Because Jackson made sure Mark knew what was happening to him and gave him a choice,” Junmyeon feels a bubble of pride in his chest at Yifan’s clipped response and the way the demon has to take a deep breath like Luhan has pushed him to the limits of his patience. It doesn’t offset the irritation simmering under his skin at the fact that Yifan allowed Luhan into their house in the first place, but it’s there all the same. Luhan opens his mouth like he’s going to spit out some kind of retort, but whatever he was going to say is lost underneath a sudden explosion of noise.

Footsteps sprinting down the hall and childish squeals of excitement. “Minnie!”

Swearing in Mandarin and Yifan’s voice. “Oh no you don’t! Zitao, get back here!”

The front door slamming open again and high-pitched dog yips. “What the fuck is happening right now?!”

Junmyeon’s mind catches up with the rest of the world to Zitao squirming as he’s thrown over Yifan’s shoulder, giggling and demanding to be put down in turn. Normally, Yifan would be playing along as a monster or pretending to drop Zitao, but the demon has a pained expression and Junmyeon is pretty sure he wants to be anywhere but here. The reason for that expression doesn’t register until Junmyeon feels a pressure at his knees and looks down to see a corgi staring back at him with its tongue lolling out of its mouth. He follows the dog’s leash up to a very confused Baekhyun.

“For fuc…” Baekhyun trails off and eyes Zitao still cackling from Yifan’s shoulder before clearing his throat and starting again, “For goodness sake, Luhan! I told you that Minseok needed to be calm and relaxed, not confused and terrified!” Junmyeon has never looked up to anyone as much as he looks up to Baekhyun when the man hands the dog’s leash to Yixing and makes Luhan loosen his hold on Minseok with singular eyebrow raise.

Minseok’s legs shake but hold steady even without Luhan’s support and he ignores the shoulder Baekhyun gives him to lean on, lurching towards Junmyeon with a determined set to his mouth. Yifan is too busy wrangling Zitao to stop him, so Junmyeon rushes to Minseok’s side and feels like he might cry at the relief that washes over his best friend’s face. Minseok looks better than when he came in, but Junmyeon can see how the sudden action and change is quickly draining whatever energy he managed to stockpile in his few minutes of sleep.

“I’ve got you, Minnie, come on.” Junmyeon tries to lead Minseok further into the house where he can get the man settled on a real bed away from all the noise and people. He manages two steps before Baekhyun stops him with a gentle hand on his arm and a meaningful glance to Luhan, who looks so lost that Junmyeon feels a little involuntary twinge of pity. Not enough to make Junmyeon even begin to entertain the idea of letting Minseok anywhere near him again, but enough to make him wonder just how invested in Minseok Luhan is.

“You have no idea what’s happening, do you?” Baekhyun takes Minseok’s face in both hands, searching for something that Junmyeon can’t even begin to guess. “I know you’re really tired and in a lot of pain, but I need you to stay awake for a little longer, okay? Once you – _both_ of you,” Junmyeon’s stomach does an odd little flip when Baekhyun’s gaze flickers to him and then passed him to Yifan, “understand, we’ll move on from there. Zitao, I need to have a talk with Mama and Baba and Minseok. Will you help Yixing watch Mongryeong for me?”

Zitao squeaks out a resounding ‘yes’ before Junmyeon can protest leaving his son alone with Yixing. The demon looks a little like a deer in headlights at being in charge of a child and a dog as well, which only makes Junmyeon even more uncomfortable. He looks to Yifan for assistance, but he’s already setting Zitao down with a kiss on the forehead and a gentle push to go play with the puppy.

The irritation and stress that had been slowly eating Junmyeon up from the inside out starts to come to a head and he’s ready to scream. He’s ready to kick everyone but Minseok and Zitao out of his fucking house and his life because this is too much. When all the supernatural demonic mess was affecting him, he could handle it because it gave him Zitao and, since last night, Yifan. But Minseok is starting to shake again and Junmyeon can’t tell if it’s from pain or fear. He doesn’t want Luhan anywhere near Minseok; he doesn’t want to leave Zitao alone with Yixing. He doesn’t want to cry but there are tears welling up just the same because everything is _too much_ -

“This goes Junmyeon’s way, do you understand me? If he wants Minseok to stay next to him and not Luhan, that’s what happens. If he doesn’t want Yixing to stay with Zitao, then someone else watches him. This is his house and we play by his rules.” Yifan’s voice drops to something that reminds Junmyeon of fluorescent red and burning candles. It really shouldn’t leech the overwhelming stress out of his shoulders like it does. The demon leans down to whisper in his ear and wipe away a stray tear that Junmyeon didn’t realize had fallen. “It’s going to be alright, darling, I’m on your side.”

Junmyeon lets the hand not helping Minseok stand be snatched up and held by Yifan. It takes a few moments to calm down and when he finally looks away from Yifan’s face he sees Baekhyun watching him with an odd mixture of surprise and expectation. “Kitchen. Luhan, you stay away from Minseok unless he decides otherwise and Yixing…” Junmyeon trails off with a dismissing wave of his hand because he can’t even begin to formulate the exact warning he wants to give. “Be nice.”

That’s how they end up at Junmyeon’s kitchen table. Minseok is a little more aware of the world around him after he gets some water and half a poptart in his stomach, and Junmyeon feels like he can rest a little easier with Luhan sequestered on the opposite side of the table. Yifan doesn’t let go of his hand and Junmyeon finds that he doesn’t want him to. It’s a little like having a life preserver to cling to in the middle of the ocean; he’s still lost and confused, but he knows that he’s safe.

Baekhyun clears his throat from his spot between Minseok and Luhan, still eyeing the way Yifan and Junmyeon’s hands are intertwined with a twinkle in his eye. “Alright, so I’m going to assume that the other humans understand that Luhan, Yifan, and Yixing are demons. We’re not going to go over demon one-oh-one or anything because that can be personal and it’s usually a bonding experience between demon and human and mostly I don’t feel like it. What we _are_ going to discuss are these,” Baekhyun pulls at the collar of his own shirt to expose the scar on his shoulder. Minseok sucks in a sharp breath and Junmyeon watches as his arm moves to touch his own bite like a reflex.

“What are they,” Minseok’s voice comes out tremulous and small. Luhan opens his mouth but Baekhyun shushes him with harsh glare that doesn’t fit his face before the demon can speak; Junmyeon’s admiration only grows.

Baekhyun’s gaze softens and his mouth wavers like he can’t decide whether he wants to smile or frown. “Demons aren’t like venomous or anything. At least I don’t think they are… Luhan isn’t though! So you don’t have to worry about dying. Well, now you _really_ won’t have to worry about dying.”

“Get to the point, Baek,” Yifan motions with his free at Minseok, who is looking more frightened and confused by the second.

Baekhyun winces in apology, “The point is, they aren’t dangerous. They scar over pretty nastily, though, if you can’t tell. This is probably a little under five hundred years old and the scar hasn’t faded since it healed. The scar on my shoulder connects me to Yixing the way that the wound on yours – by the way, Luhan, did you maul him? – connects you to Luhan. You belong to each other now.”

That wasn’t the right thing to say, judging by the way Minseok scoots closer to Junmyeon and away from Luhan. “I don’t even know him! It was supposed to be a one-night thing!” Junmyeon snaps his around to look at Minseok so fast his neck aches because Minseok _slept with Luhan_! He thought his best friend would have higher standards than that, though he will begrudgingly admit that Luhan is quite physically attractive, he just has the personality of a rotting log.

“It can still be a one-night thing,” Luhan cuts in, something like desperation written across his face, “just a one-night thing every night for the rest of our lives.” Junmyeon does his best not to laugh, but Yifan seems to have no qualms about pressing his face to Junmyeon’s arm and snickering. Watching Minseok regard Luhan with suspicion while the other man is staring at him like he’s the sun is something like a renaissance painting. Junmyeon wants to take a picture and capture this moment of a demon capitulating to a human’s will – as if it doesn’t happen every single time Junmyeon and Yifan want different things.

“As much as I hate to say it, and I really hate to say it, Luhan is right. That bite on your neck is a literal once in a lifetime opportunity for demons and for you. They only have one human that is, for lack of a better word, theirs. I’m sure you noticed the, um, _compatibility_ between you two last night. Something decided that you two are meant to be together from the moment Luhan and Yifan surfaced and the bite is meant to keep you together until the end of time,” Baekhyun gestures wildly between Minseok and Luhan and Junmyeon scoots back a little to make sure he’s out of the man’s reach.

“End of time?”

Luhan reaches over to cover Baekhyun’s mouth with his hand, looking a little more like himself and not the sap that keeps making abortive movements for Minseok every time the man winces in pain, “Minseok, Baekhyun and Yixing have been together since before the seventeenth century. The reason you’re so tired is because you’re effectively immortal now and all your cells are having to adjust. The pain is because you tried to pick the fucking scabs off and won’t let me touch you.”

Baekhyun says something about wondering why Minseok had been in so much pain but it’s lost when Minseok stands up and slams his hands down on the table. The fire is back in his eyes and Junmyeon watches in awe as he stares Luhan down when he could barely support his own weight a few minutes ago. “Why should I let you touch me? I barely know you!”

Luhan mirrors Minseok’s stance almost perfectly. The only difference is the excitement and something Junmyeon wants to call joy dancing in his eyes and playing at the smile on his lips. “That didn’t bother you last night.” Minseok turns bright red and gapes like a fish out of water. Yifan guffaws but attempts to compose himself when Junmyeon turns around to glare at him, kissing Junmyeon on the cheek in apology. Junmyeon would like to say that it didn’t calm his anger so easily, but he’s not a liar.

Junmyeon sees something in the way they’re staring at each other. Minseok is totally unafraid to challenge Luhan and it’s painfully clear on Luhan’s face that the demon loves every second of it. He encourages it almost, looking Minseok in the eye like he’s daring him to say something back. Then Minseok’s arms give out because he’s running on short bursts of energy and Luhan catches him before he can brain himself on the table.

“You have two choices-”

Baekhyun whines, “I wasn’t finished explaining how everything works!” It’s a little childish, but Junmyeon remembers Baekhyun’s excitement at not being the lone human in a world of demons anymore and understands. That kind of loneliness would make him a little childish too.

Still, Luhan barrels on and Junmyeon reminds himself to have Baekhyun over when the circumstances aren’t so awful. “ _You have two choices_. You can come back to my apartment and we’ll work things out like adults once you’re feeling better or you stay here and that’s the end of it. You don’t seek me out and I don’t seek you out.”

Yifan gasps, “Luhan.” Luhan seems so willing to throw away the forever that Baekhyun was talking about, face neutral and voice even like he doesn’t care what the outcome is. Junmyeon can see the truth though; Minseok is supporting his own weight again and that leaves Luhan’s hands free to tremble and give away just how scared he is. This is everything to him, what he’s probably been dreaming of his whole existence. Junmyeon almost feels bad for him because he’s going to lose what’s likely the most important thing that will ever happen to him, but then Junmyeon turns his gaze to Minseok and his stomach drops.

Minseok is going to go back with him. Junmyeon can see it in the furrow of his brow, the way he chews on his lower lip in thought. He can’t understand why, but Minseok is going to go with Luhan and work out whatever is between them. Minseok has to see something in Luhan that Junmyeon can’t because he would rather eat a pair of socks than go anywhere with the demon. Still, Junmyeon trusts Minseok’s judgement. If he thinks it’s a good idea, then it’s a good idea.

“We have to stop by my apartment first, understand? I’ve been wearing the same clothes since last night and I feel gross.”

Luhan doesn’t do anything for heartbeat, eyes wide and disbelieving. Then he’s up and rounding the table to usher Minseok out of the house before the human can change his mind. Junmyeon watches and readies himself to intervene should Minseok decide he doesn’t want Luhan’s hands on him, but his best friend doesn’t fight it. He does, however, give Junmyeon a very significant look that Junmyeon can only interpret as a warning to call the cops if he doesn’t hear from Minseok in two days.

When they drive away, Luhan driving and Minseok typing out what has to be the longest text in history, Junmyeon finally slips his hand out of Yifan’s and goes to find Zitao. He hasn’t been up for more than two hours and he already feels like he could nap for the rest of the day and still wake up tired. Minseok is still at the forefront of his mind and Junmyeon doesn’t want to think about the veritable disaster his life has become in the past one hundred and twenty minutes. If he had his pick, he’d ignore all his responsibilities that aren’t directly related to his son and watch variety shows until the sun goes down. Junmyeon will happily settle for a Zitao hug though. The adrenaline and stress leave Junmyeon in a rush and he rests against the doorway to Zitao’s room with a tired smile.

Zitao pauses in his rambling Mandarin to dart over and hug Junmyeon around the legs. It’s quite possibly the best thing that’s ever happened to him. He’s not sure whether Zitao can sense that he really needs an extra-long hug right now or if the little boy is just feeling cuddly, but he appreciates it nonetheless. Junmyeon slides down the wall until he’s sitting and gives Zitao ample room to climb into his lap and get some sorely needed cuddles.

Yixing takes it as an opportunity to leave, thanking Zitao for telling him so much about the Power Rangers – Junmyeon has sat through that lecture more than a few times and understands the shell-shocked look on Yixing’s face completely – and disappearing with Mongryeong on his heels. Who knew that all it would take to shake Yixing was a child with a love of talking and an even greater love of Power Rangers? Junmyeon would be thoroughly pleased that his son has managed to unsettle one of the most unsettling people he’s ever met if he didn’t feel like he’d been hit by a truck.

“Are you okay, Mama,” Zitao asks after a few beats. Yixing, Baekhyun, and Yifan’s conversation floats down the hallway, something that Junmyeon really can’t bring himself to care about in the slightest. Too much has happened in such a short span of time for him to process it all. Part of him is still reeling from the night before and his human brain can only adapt so fast.

“Better, now that I’m with you.”

The front door clicks shut and Yifan steps into view, coming down the hallway with a soft smile on his face. Junmyeon feels himself returning the smile and suddenly he doesn’t feel like he’s drowning anymore. The demon takes a small detour into their – Junmyeon’s room and comes back with Junmyeon’s cellphone in hand. Yifan crouches down next to them and uses his stupidly long arms to pull both Junmyeon and Zitao into a hug. “Wild morning, huh?”

“The wildest morning I’ve ever had, and that includes waking up to this one,” Junmyeon ruffles Zitao’s hair and boops his nose to make him giggle, “sleeping next to me and you in the kitchen using my cellphone.”

They both laugh even though it’s really not all that funny. Junmyeon guesses that it just feels good to laugh after the day they’ve had. Yifan hands Junmyeon his cellphone and the screen lights up with five notifications, all from his best friend. “I forgot to tell you when we woke up this morning, but your phone went off a few times last night. You’ve got a lot of missed texts from Minseok.” Guilt pulls at his chest. What if Minseok had needed him? What if this whole thing is his fault?

Yifan makes a soft noise of pain like he can see Junmyeon’s thoughts written all over his face. The demon cups his face with both hands so gently it’s like he’s afraid Junmyeon might break and presses their lips together in the softest, sweetest kiss to ever exist. Yifan pulls back from the kiss but keeps Junmyeon’s face cradled in his hands, “Whatever you’re thinking, stop it. What happened with Minseok and Luhan wasn’t ideal, but there is nothing you could have done to change it. You’ll be there to help Minseok adapt and make sure Luhan treats Minseok right and that’s what matters.”

Junmyeon can’t bring himself to look anywhere but Yifan’s nose, eyes blinking as fast they can to hold back tears. Yifan sighs and stands up with a last kiss to Junmyeon’s forehead. “That’s it, today is going to be a cuddle-day. We’re building a blanket fort and ordering pizza and that’s final. Come on, TaoTao, I need some help on the blanket fort.” Zitao scrambles out of Junmyeon’s lap and sprints for Junmyeon’s room, grabbing Yifan’s hand and yanking him along. Junmyeon takes a few deep breaths after they’re gone to steel himself for whatever is waiting for him on his phone.

**From: Minsock**

_Going to check out that new club in the city. Black Pearl, I think? Ill let u know how it goes. Maybe ill take u and Baek there and we can have a dude’s night out_

_This place is really really cool, kind of a weird ancient-modern Chinese kinda thing_

_Holy fuck, Junmyeon, I think I just met the hottest guy on the planet. Brb, gonna go see if he’s gay_

_He is and he wants to fuck me. God bless America._

_Dude his place is so fucking nice. Like a fuckin penthouse kind of nice. Turns out he's the dude Baek tried to set me up with_

Junmyeon winces at the overwhelming amount of irony. There really hadn’t been anything he could have done to stop them. He thinks Luhan pulled a dirty fucking trick by not coming clean to Minseok before sinking his teeth into his neck, but Minseok was already in the lion’s den by the time Junmyeon would have been of any assistance.

Another text comes in from Minseok, a long one, so long it had to be sent in multiple messages,  that seem to be a rundown of everything that happened that morning and the night before. Zitao calls for Junmyeon to come help finish the blanket fort at the same time though, screeching that ‘Baba is hopeless’ over Yifan’s indignant squawking. Junmyeon scoots across the hallway on his bottom just to make Zitao laugh, and throws himself into spending a ‘cuddle-day’ with his odd little family.

Minseok’s story will be for another day, this one is for Junmyeon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As posted above (i know some of u don't read the notes at the beginning, I would suggest u do though bc that's where all my updates go lmao) but [Baekxing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14713338/chapters/34003887) is up! Please check it out!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! If you did, I would love it if you were so kind as to leave a kudos and a comment or come talk to me at on [ Twitter. ](https://twitter.com/killmeDO) I also opened up a [ Curious Cat ](https://curiouscat.me/killmeDO) please come ask questions about the story or anything else! (I love talking to you guys and I would love to hear what you think of this story!)


	13. XIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe that this thing only has three more chapters in it! It's honestly kind of fucking crazy that we're barreling towards the end like this. I'm probably going to start getting mushy and sappy about the end soon hahaha. This story was my BABY for so long. I'm thankful for all the support and the love that you all have given to it and me! 
> 
> Next chapter...we're earning that Explicit rating ;))))
> 
> And, as always, thank you [Aarushi](https://twitter.com/AarushiC_18) for betaing and helping me construct all these stories and worlds!

Zitao watches Junmyeon dump a whole bag of chocolate chips into the batter with rapt attention, sandwiched between his mother and the kitchen counter. “And this is my _secret_ recipe for brownies, alright? That means you can’t tell _anyone_ , not even Minseok or your father.” Even as Zitao wiggles around to face him, assuring that he’s not going to tell anyone in the ‘whole entire world except his panda bear,’ Junmyeon knows it’s a lost cause. Zitao will be clambering up the stairs the moment the brownies are in the oven to tell Yifan all about them and inevitably let it slip just how Junmyeon makes them so chocolatey. If Junmyeon is careful and keeps his child away from Minseok and Luhan long enough, there’s a good chance he can keep his recipe out of their hands. Minseok bet him twenty dollars in high school that he would figure out Junmyeon’s secret recipe, and now it’s just become a thing of pride.

Junmyeon lets Zitao pour the batter into the pan and he’s actually a little impressed by the little boy’s attention to detail; the bowl is nearly clean when Zitao’s done with it. Junmyeon knows that Zitao’s not his biological son, that they don’t share any DNA, but he swears that the boy got his perfectionism from him. As promised when the whole baking ordeal started, Zitao gets to lick the bowl and the spatula, after Junmyeon gets just the tiniest taste for himself.

“Remember,” Junmyeon says he slides the pan into the oven, “bring the spatula and bowl back when you’re done and do not, I repeat, _do not_ open the oven. I will get the brownies out when they’re done and you can ask me to help you check on them.” Zitao is out of sight before Junmyeon can finish speaking, the sound of footsteps thumping up the stairs echoing through the hallway. Junmyeon told him about the oven at least ten times while they were baking, so hopefully it wasn’t too terribly important for Zitao to hear him this time.

The oven timer counts down the minutes until he has to fight off a whiny Yifan from trying to eat too-hot brownies. He can hear Zitao running around upstairs, he probably left the door to Yifan’s office open. Zitao roars as loud and vicious someone with his sweet voice can and Yifan makes the most pathetic attempt of a scared scream Junmyeon has ever heard. “I am the panda dragon and I’m gonna eat all your pants!”

“Not my pants, panda dragon, please!”

“Yes! All of your pants!”

A soft thud and the unendingly pleasant mixture of Zitao’s high-pitched giggles and Yifan’s laughter. “Junmyeon, come save me from the panda dragon! He’s wiping brownie batter all over my shirt!”

Junmyeon turns the timers on his phone and the microwave as loud as they’ll go and throws his apron onto the counter. How can he leave poor Yifan defenseless against such a ferocious dragon? “Never fear, I’ll save you!” Junmyeon lets out what he hopes is a mighty battle call and charges down the hallway and up the steps.

“No,” Zitao giggles when Junmyeon comes through the doorway, “Don’t help Baba, he’s tickling me! Help me!” The little boy is trapped against Yifan’s chest and squirming for all his worth, rubbing the chocolate covering his entire face on the demon’s white shirt. Yifan tickles him mercilessly and Junmyeon feels a pang of sympathy for his son. Yifan’s a terrifyingly observant person with a memory like a steel trap, once he finds a ticklish spot he carves it into his brain to use for torture later. He tickled Junmyeon between kisses until he cried just the night before.

Junmyeon drops to his knees beside them and attempts to get his arms around Zitao. Yifan makes a hurt noise and the worst puppy-dog pout to have ever existed, “I can’t believe you’re betraying me! I thought we had something special!” Maybe it would have worked, just maybe, if Yifan wasn’t breaking into a smile halfway through his first sentence. Junmyeon has learned that the demon can’t act to save his life when it comes Junmyeon and Zitao. It’s not as though he’s incapable of hiding things, because Junmyeon is still trying to weasel the story of how the demon became trapped in the house out him, but Yifan’s emotions are almost painfully obvious.

“Mama loves me more,” Zitao accidentally shoves a knee into Yifan’s gut, surprising him enough to make him loosen his grip – or maybe not so accidentally judging by the wild cackle that comes out of the little boy’s mouth as he launches himself into Junmyeon’s lap. “See? I’m his favorite person in the whole wide world, he’d never let you tickle me!”

Something mischievous flashes in Junmyeon’s mind and he secures Zitao in his lap. “You are my favorite person! I love you sooo much…so much that I just want to kiss you!” Understanding dawns on Yifan’s face and he bursts into laughter. Before Zitao can ask what’s so funny, Junmyeon is raining kisses all over his face. They’re stupidly over-exaggerated, _mwah_ sounds and everything, and Zitao squeals.

“Ack! No no no no! Baba help!” Yifan, of course, doesn’t help, and instead takes the side of Zitao’s face that’s harder for Junmyeon to reach. They pause for a moment when Zitao makes a noise that sounds like actual distress, but then Zitao looks between the two of them in confusion, “Why did you stop? I like kisses,” and they get right back to it.

Eventually, Zitao gets bored of being kissed and grabs Yifan’s face to whisper something in his ear before squirming out of Junmyeon’s lap. Junmyeon lets him go because he just assumes that Zitao’s had enough. Junmyeon blames lack of sleep for his failure to connect the dots between Zitao’s sudden escape and the playful tilt to Yifan’s mouth, which is an absolute lie because he has never slept as well as he does now with Yifan keeping him warm at night.

Junmyeon feels the air in his lungs leave in a rush as he’s tackled to the floor. He has a moment to realize that Yifan is looming over him with grin that spells torture. Then, long fingers are digging into his sides and he’s giggling out any air he has left. He tries to shove Yifan’s fingers away but the demon is too strong and Junmyeon’s laughing too hard to put any real strength behind his struggles. “M-mercy, please!”

Yifan gets down close to whisper in his ear, smile audible in his voice. “Mm, I don’t think I want to.” Junmyeon tries to roll out from underneath him but is caged in by the demon’s stupidly long limbs. Yifan’s finger catches on that one spot on his waist and Junmyeon _squeals_. “You’re so fucking cute, Junmyeon, so fucking cute.” He presses their lips together, fingers stilling long enough for Junmyeon to catch his breath. Yifan keeps mumbling about how perfect and sweet and adorable Junmyeon is, wrapping his arms around him like an overly affectionate octopus.

“You’re ridiculous,” Junmyeon mumbles into Yifan’s shoulder. Yifan takes it in stride with a kiss to Junmyeon’s temple, like he always does, as if it’s the greatest compliment he could have ever received.

“I’m ridiculous for you, darling.”

Junmyeon wonders how he got so lucky. How did he go from living on his best friend’s couch to being hugged within an inch of his life by a demon that would move heaven and hell for him and their son? He has the fleeting thought that he’s not actually that important to Yifan because there is a human out there essentially made for Yifan, but it’s chased away, like it always is, by the endless flow of adoration whispered into his ear.

Junmyeon loves Yifan. It’s only been a couple of months and Junmyeon understands that love shouldn’t be able to bloom so quickly, and yet he loves Yifan so much it feels like his body isn’t enough to contain it all. Yifan cares about him like no one has ever cared before, kisses him like he’s the only thing that matters, holds him like he’s something precious; Yifan makes him feel like he has a place in the world just for him.

That’s why Junmyeon’s heart aches when he pulls back and sees exhaustion and stress written in the shadows underneath Yifan’s eyes. Junmyeon loves him and he can’t do anything to help with whatever ghost is haunting him – and oh the irony is bitter. Zitao is too young to really understand it, young enough for Yifan to pass the way he’s so worn down as bad dreams or tummy aches. Junmyeon doesn’t get the luxury, and instead has to watch Yifan deteriorate under a weight Junmyeon doesn’t know how to help him carry. There have been a few moments when it seemed like the demon was going to open up and show him the secret he’s been hiding, but then Yifan closed back up and disappeared within himself.

There’s a loud yell from down stairs and Junmyeon’s head snaps to the side to see Zitao is nowhere in sight. Yifan is pulls him up as he stands and tugs them both down the stairs, “Zitao, honey, are you alright?” There’s no response and Junmyeon has a sinking feeling that he knows exactly what they’re about to walk in on.

Sure enough, Zitao is sitting on the kitchen floor in front of the open oven door, the fingers of his right hand stuck in his mouth. The little boy looks up when they stop in the entryway, big, fat tears leaking out of his eyes. Yifan drops down next to their son and holds open his arms for a hug. Junmyeon wants to sit down and dote on Zitao, wipe away his tears and give him big kisses, but Zitao has a horribly guilty look on his face over Yifan’s shoulder.

Junmyeon told him how many times not to touch the oven? He made Zitao promise not to before even agreeing to let him help bake. Zitao knows it too, the way he won’t meet Junmyeon’s eyes telling him that the little boy is well aware that he disobeyed. Still, Junmyeon needs to see just how badly he hurt himself, so he kneels down next Yifan and puts out a hand, “Where did you get burnt?”

Yifan raises an eyebrow, staring at Junmyeon in disbelief when he doesn’t instantly shower Zitao with kisses and affection. Zitao stares at Yifan’s chest but gives Junmyeon his bright red fingers. They’re not even singed, just red and swollen from the heat. Junmyeon would bet that Zitao stuck his hand in as soon as he pulled open the door and pulled it away before he actually touched any of the metal. “You got very lucky, do you understand? You’ve could’ve been really, really hurt.” Junmyeon doesn’t take pleasure from the way Zitao nods dejectedly and refuses to turn and look at him, especially when Zitao pulls his hand away to show it to Yifan with a pout.

Yifan takes gently between his own and kisses each reddened finger, “You hurt your hand, huh? Let Baba fix it, alright? It’ll be all better in just a second.” Yifan’s eyes start to glow that fluorescent red and Junmyeon realizes what’s about to happen. He should have expected it, Yifan has a habit of trying to fix everything with his powers, especially problems concerning Zitao. The little boy can’t get a papercut without Yifan healing it in exchange for cuddles. Junmyeon doesn’t mind for the most part, it came in handy the time another kid pushed Zitao off the monkey bars and he had nasty scratches up and down his shins. On the other hand, kids learn through experience and Zitao doesn’t actually understand that he needs to _listen_ when Junmyeon and Yifan tell him that something is going to hurt. This isn’t the first time he’s touched the stove or oven after being told not to, and it won’t be the last unless he learns that he can actually hurt himself.

“No, it will not. Zitao, I’m going to get some aloe from the bathroom and we can rub that on fingers, but you’ll be fine a few hours.” Junmyeon wonders when he became so brave that the bright red of Yifan’s irises stopped bothering him.

Yifan is angry – at him. His lip curls into the beginnings of a snarl and that’s never happened before. “What is your problem, Junmyeon?” Junmyeon nearly tips backwards onto his ass at the acid in Yifan’s voice. He doesn’t even have time to attempt to defend himself before Yifan starts again, leaning in until they’re nearly nose-to-nose and hissing in his face too low for Zitao to hear, “Do you want Zitao to suffer? I have the power to heal him and you just want me to leave him in pain? Who are you, fucking JiaJia?”

The silence is overwhelming. Yifan’s mouth drops open in surprise as regret blooms behind his eyes. He pulls back, out of Junmyeon’s space, and drops his gaze to the floor. Zitao looks helplessly between his parents, inching off of Yifan’s lap and into Junmyeon’s. It isn’t until his little hands come up to rub the tears that Junmyeon’s realizes he’s crying.

He doesn’t know what to do, what to say. How is he supposed to react when the man he loves compares him to a child-killing monster? People can say awful things when they’re under stress, but that doesn’t ease the echoing pain in his chest. Junmyeon stands up, blinking rapidly to try and stave off any extra tears. He’s been in fights with boyfriends before. He’s been in awful, vicious, nearly violent fights, but it’s never hurt like this before.

Zitao, isn’t used to fights between his parents. Hell, Junmyeon’s pretty sure that the whipped cream fight a few weeks ago is the most heated he’s ever seen things get, and that had just devolved into Junmyeon literally covering Yifan in whipped cream. Junmyeon’s not sure he actually understands why they’re both so upset.

“Mama, do you need a hug?” God, Junmyeon loves his son. He picks Zitao up and holds him as tight as he can, forcing down a whimper. It’s useless though, he can feel his hands shake where they’re gripping Zitao’s shirt and he knows that sobs aren’t too far behind. “I love you, Mama, I love you lots. I’m sorry I opened the oven without you. I won’t do it again, honest! Please don’t cry.”

“It’s not your fault, honey.”

“But you told me not to open the oven ‘cause I’d get burned and I didn’t listen and got hurt and now you’re sad,” Zitao leans back and meets Junmyeon’s eyes with a stare that doesn’t fit his childish face. He looks so guilty, lower lip quiver in true distress as he promises to listen really well and never touch the oven by himself ever again. Junmyeon sees Yifan standing nearby out of the corner of his eye, watching them helplessly and he tries not to buckle under the weight of the desperate sadness in the demon’s face.

The demon tentatively reaches out to them, hands shaking as they make to pull them into a hug, but then he meets Junmyeon’s gaze and drops his hands. Part of Junmyeon wants to pull him in and hear the apology he can see fighting at seam of Yifan’s lips, but what is he going to say? This can’t be fixed by a simple ‘I’m sorry’, not something that causes this much _hurt_. He knows that Yifan didn’t mean it, knows that he’s been wrestling with something too big for just one man, supernaturally powerful or not, to handle. That doesn’t make Yifan’s words hurt any less though.

Yifan suddenly turns on his heel and walks out of the kitchen, mouth twisted like he’s about to cry. The door to his study slams so loudly it’s probably one hard shove away from being knocked off its hinges. It only serves to make Junmyeon feel even worse. He can’t let himself cry like he wants to though, not with Zitao staring at him in utter confusion. He doesn’t understand the tension filling up the entire house, just that his parents are upset and his attempt to fix it didn’t work.

Junmyeon swallows down the sadness and anger and frustration that makes his throat feel too tight to be of any use. Yifan has decided isolate himself and left Junmyeon to take care of their distressed five-year-old, so take care of Zitao he will. He doesn’t plaster on a smile, doesn’t fake happy; Zitao deserves more than lies. Instead, Junmyeon gives him a half-smile and bounces him on his hip, “It looks like it’s just you and me tonight, panda bear. Good thing we already had dinner, huh? Baba’s the one that does the cooking around these parts. Brownie or a bath first?”

Zitao’s nose scrunches up in that precious way it does when he’s thinking really hard. To Junmyeon, it’s like the sun coming out after a storm. He can feel that Zitao’s still tense, still distressed, but he’s trying to work with Junmyeon to make the best out an awful situation – which is more than they can say for Yifan. “Brownie first please.”

“Sounds good,” Junmyeon eases Zitao to the floor and shoos him to the kitchen table, “Do you want an edge piece or a middle piece?”

“Middle!” He’s Junmyeon’s child, alright. The brownies are cool enough from the oven door being left open for so long that Junmyeon feels perfectly fine about giving Zitao one fresh out of the oven. He takes the other middle piece for himself, Yifan is hiding upstairs so he doesn’t get a choice, and joins Zitao at the kitchen table. The brownies are still hot enough to make Junmyeon curse when they nearly burn his mouth – Zitao has enough sense to blow on his and let it cool before he eats it – but it’s worth it for the way it makes Zitao laugh.

“Then the Pteranodons and Buddy met Natasha Necrolestes. She’s a mole and that means that she can’t see very good. Did you know that, Mama? Moles live in the dark so they have bad eyes.” There’s a loud splash as Zitao makes one of his dinosaurs cannonball into the bathwater. “But Natasha and Dr. Scott the pail-ontologist, Baba says that means he’s a dinosaur scientist, said moles have really good noses. Mongryeong has a good nose too but he’s not a mole, he’s a doggy.”

“I think we’re going to have to start calling you Dr. Zitao the paleontologist,” Junmyeon gently tips Zitao’s head back to dump water over Zitao’s hair. There’s chocolate smeared all over the little boy’s mouth that stubbornly refuses to come off when Junmyeon scrubs at it. Junmyeon may have been persuaded to give Zitao one, maybe two more brownies. He was helpless to that sweet smile and ‘pretty pretty pleases’. It may have also had to do with the way Zitao looked up at the ceiling so forlornly whenever Yifan’s chair scraped against the carpet of his study.

“So, what else did you learn on _Dinosaur Train_ today? Baba told me that you finished the whole show, so you must be an expert on all things dinosaur by now.” Yifan had texted him sometime around lunch begging for assistance because Zitao had finished his favorite show and now had nothing to occupy him while Yifan worked on whatever it is he does upstairs. Of course, Junmyeon hadn’t been able to come home because he was busy teaching thirty other children. He did, however, let Yifan know that this is what he has to put up with every time he tries to grade papers at home.

How had things gone from playful and domestic, bantering and discussing dinner ideas over text, to radio silence over an injury that barely even registers as more than an ‘ouchie’? Zitao’s hand is absolutely fine now, all it took was a little cool water and aloe – and brownies – for him to feel right as rain. How did something so small lead to such an insurmountable divide?

"Donna got really pale, Mama," Zitao says as Junmyeon rinses the shampoo out of his hair, "She used to be really tan, tanner than Moana. And she used to have really dark and curly hair. Her hair was so pretty, she used to have braids all the time and let me pick beads to go on the end!" Junmyeon hums, too preoccupied his own thoughts.

Yifan should be down here and helping Junmyeon keep all the shampoo out of Zitao’s eyes. Yifan’s the one who usually gives Zitao his shampoo-induced mohawk, Junmyeon’s just don’t look the same. Junmyeon has to play both the villainous stegosaurus and the dimetrodon-in-distress during the few minutes Zitao gets to play with his bath toys before the water gets too cold and it feels all wrong. Yifan should be the one surrendering to the might of Zitao’s ankylosaur. They should be working together to lure Zitao out of the bathtub when the water finally turns tepid and gross and into his pajamas.

Junmyeon shouldn’t be curled up in bed with just Zitao, Dr. Seuss book left unread because he doesn’t stumble over the tongue-twisters and make Zitao laugh like Yifan. “Is Baba gonna be mad forever? I don’t like it when he’s not here.” Junmyeon understands the feeling wholeheartedly. He presses a kiss to Zitao’s hair and just says that Yifan will be back when he’s ready. Zitao huffs in frustration but snuggles in closer to Junmyeon and falls into a fitful sleep regardless.

Junmyeon isn’t sure how long he lays there, soothing Zitao through restless tossing and turning, but at some point, he decides that he’s had it. Yifan doesn’t get to do this to them. They’re a family and Junmyeon refuses to allow his family to devolve into one filled with silence and stone-walling. If Yifan is still mad, that’s fine, but that doesn’t mean he gets to shut them out.

Once Zitao is finally resting, no more tossing or turning or brief bouts of wakefulness, Junmyeon slips out from under the covers and tiptoes to the kitchen. He doesn’t want to go to sleep without an apology and some answers, doesn’t think that he _can_ sleep without Yifan nearby anymore. The demon has to come downstairs to go to bed sometime, and Junmyeon can keep himself awake for truly incredible lengths of time on pure willpower and chocolate chip cookie dough – his sweet tooth always gets worse when he’s stressed.

Around eleven-thirty, Junmyeon hears footsteps on the stairs. He’s half-asleep at the kitchen table with a nearly full container of cookie dough in front of him. Turns out that fighting with Yifan makes him too stressed to stress-eat and Junmyeon is helpless to the pull of sleep without the sugar rush to bolster him against it. The sound of Yifan’s footsteps, purposefully soft and quiet as the demon tries to sneak to bed, pulls him back to reality.  Junmyeon’s just rubbing the last vestiges of sleep out of his eyes when Yifan stops short in front of the kitchen.

“You should be in bed.” Yifan won’t look up from the floor as he speaks, hands twisting nervously in the hem of his shirt.

“So should you.” The words hang heavy in the air, sharper and more harsh than Junmyeon meant for them to be. Junmyeon watches curiously as Yifan sucks in a breath and starts to raise his gaze from the floor like he’s going to defend himself before deflating and slumping inwards with a nod. This isn’t what Junmyeon wants, Yifan just giving in and withdrawing even further. He wants them to _talk_ , not stare at anywhere but each other and wait for the other person to break the silence. So, Junmyeon makes his voice softer and reaches out a hand towards Yifan, “Come sit with me. Please?”

“We should really go to bed, talk about this in the morning-”

“Yifan, please?” Yifan huffs but shuffles closer. It still feels like he’s miles away. Junmyeon closes his eyes, presses his palms to them to try and block out the sting of tears. He doesn’t want to cry but it’s so hard not to when it feels like he has to force his boyfriend to come sit next to him. He can’t do this; he’s too tired and Yifan’s words are still ringing in his ears and everything hurts. Maybe he should just go to bed and let this relationship die, because how is it going to last if it can’t survive a single fight?

Junmyeon doesn’t realize that he’s sobbing until he hears the scrape of chair legs against the linoleum and feels Yifan’s hands, one cupping his face as the other grips his waist to pull him close. “I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry, Junmyeon. I didn’t mean any of it. You’re a wonderful mother, nothing like JiaJia, and I knew that Zitao would be fine whether or not I helped him. You were right and I’m so sorry. Please don’t cry, darling, I love you.”

It takes a moment for the gravity of what Yifan just said to hit them. Yifan has just pulled Junmyeon close enough for him to muffle his whimpers into his chest when he hiccups mid-sob and abruptly stops crying. The demon’s whole body goes tense and taut like a bowstring and his hands grip a little tighter onto Junmyeon’s body.

“You love me?” Junmyeon wants to kick himself for how small and ridiculously hopeful his voice sounds.

Yifan’s swallow is audible and Junmyeon can feel how his hands shake. “Yes, of course I do. How could I not?” There’s a few heavy beats of silence, though Junmyeon can hear Yifan’s heart pounding under his ear, and he feels almost frozen in time. Yifan loves him, like _loves_ him.

“I love you too, just in case you were wondering or anything,” Junmyeon says in a rush when he realizes they’ve been sitting in silence for far too long.

Yifan makes a noise somewhere between a gasp and a hiccup; it sounds a lot like choking, if Junmyeon is honest. Then Junmyeon tenses as the demon’s hands slide down his body to clasp under his knees and lift him all the way into Yifan’s lap. They’re finally eye to eye and Junmyeon feels his face color at the sheer adoration in Yifan’s eyes. He wants to kiss him because his heart feels like it’s about to burst out of his chest but this is how things keep getting pushed under the rug. It’s what led to the fight in the first place.

As much as Junmyeon wants to, he can’t make Yifan take back what he said before, can’t solve their problems through kisses alone. Whatever Yifan is hiding will just keep piling up. What if he loses control of his mouth and lashes out again? And so, Junmyeon presses their lips together for a short, sweet moment, before he eases himself off of Yifan’s lap and back into his chair. “You have to tell me what’s going on. You can’t keep carrying it all on your own.”

“I said I was sorry, darling. I’ll do whatever it takes to make it up to you tomorrow. I’ll watch my temper so it won’t happen again, just let this go.” When Junmyeon doesn’t respond, Yifan looks away, eyes staring at some point above Junmyeon’s head. “I can’t tell you. As long as you’re in the dark, you’re safe. They won’t touch you if they think you don’t know anything.” Fucking pronoun game. Junmyeon reaches over and takes one of Yifan’s hands in his, watches as the demon twines their fingers together and rubs his thumb over Junmyeon’s knuckles. “This weight will never be too much for me to bear, not if it keeps you and Zitao safe.”

“And what about you,” Junmyeon whispers, “Nothing will hurt us more than if something happens to you. We need you safe just as much as you need us.”

Yifan’s thumb pauses, blinks twice, and lowers his eyes to meet Junmyeon’s. Junmyeon can see the gears turning in his head, a million and one decisions flitting through his brain as he scans Junmyeon’s face for…something. He squeezes Junmyeon’s fingers softly after a few moments and lets out a long sigh. “I can’t believe I’m doing this. If I tell you this, you have to promise me that you won’t put yourself in any danger for my sake, do you understand?” Junmyeon nods and Yifan gives him one of those soft smiles that make his knees feel a little weak, completely unaware that Junmyeon has his fingers crossed behind his back.

Love isn’t a one-way street. What Yifan will do for Junmyeon, Junmyeon will do for Yifan.

“As you know, Baekhyun and Minseok are essentially immortal. Baekhyun’s been around since the sixteenth century.” Junmyeon nods, curious as to what his two best friends have to do with anything – Baekhyun was so excited when Junmyeon let it slip that he thinks of him as one of his closest friends, but that’s irrelevant. “There is a bond between Yixing and Baekhyun, and Minseok and Luhan, that keeps the humans alive. Yixing has spent a few hundred years studying the bond and found that it affects the humans down to the atomic level. Their cells are almost exactly the same as yours except that their cells will divide and regenerate infinitely and perfectly. It’s like being frozen in time almost. Baekhyun and Minseok’s hair will grow, their appearance may change like a normal human, but they will never age.”

“What does this have to do with anything? I’m sorry, I know you’re trying to explain this to me, but I’m lost.”

“Well, there are other humans out there that live forever, but not the way that Baekhyun and Minseok do. Their longevity is taken from the lives of others, similar to what JiaJia tried to do, not freely given as a demon does with their human. We have no real name for those humans, but they’re a bastardized version of the Winchesters – by the way, I can’t believe Minseok thought it would be a good idea to let Zitao watch that show – these humans hunt down demons and seal them away for eternity.”

Junmyeon has a sudden memory of ‘ _they’ve likely noticed by now that the seals were broken_.’ “That’s what happened to you…”

Yifan’s face hardens, eyes narrowing as he nods and his grip on Junmyeon’s hand borders on painful. “Nineteen forty-seven, a group of humans that called themselves ‘witches’ lured me into the house and sacrificed three of their own members to create a seal strong enough to hold me. Once I was locked away, they killed two more to create seals to keep you- to keep the first one from being broken. Chanyeol keeps a close eye on all the hunters and they’ve been searching for me ever since you broke the seals. They’re dedicated to hunting me down.”

“Why?” For all that he’s a demon, Junmyeon would be hard-pressed to name someone even as kind or as gentle as Yifan. He understands wanting to smack him from time to time, mostly because Yifan wouldn’t turn off Junmyeon’s alarm for him, but Junmyeon can’t imagine ever wanting to actually hurt him.

“A stupid human made a deal that he would find my human for me if I healed his son, the boy had been born with a number of defects. I told him not to make the deal, that he couldn’t fulfill it if he tried, but he forced my hand. When he died without finding yo- the human, as I knew he would, the deal reversed and his son dropped dead from birth defects he never knew he had. Unfortunately, the son had married a woman who tracked his death back to me and made it her life’s mission to kill me. Killed ten other people so she could live long enough to do it. She failed, obviously, but Chanyeol has been tracking her and her group and they’re going to try again. They’re going to try again and they’ve figured out how to do it.”

Junmyeon settles back against his chair, mouth dropping open as he tries to process it all. It feels nice to have a name for the weight Yifan’s been carrying all this time, but he’s so angry at the fact that the demon has been locked away in a house for seventy years for something that wasn’t fully his fault. “But why were you so scared to tell me?”

“When they started hunting me the first time, they tried to kill Baekhyun. Baekhyun was on another continent at the time and all they knew was that Baekhyun knew demons exist. Yixing and Luhan didn’t start looking for me until for nearly twenty years to keep him out of the line of fire. While the hunters were tracking me in the first place, one of them became obsessed with Jackson and tried to seal him in a necklace to keep him forever. Mark killed the hunter before he could finish, but Jackson told me that Mark still wakes up from nightmares where he wasn’t fast enough.” That haunted look is back in Yifan’s eyes. These things must have happened decades ago, but it’s all so recent for him. He didn’t have the time the rest of them did to process and heal. “If they did that to my friends, my acquaintances, what do you think they would to you? To Zitao? Their goal is to hurt me and going after you two is the best way to do it.”

Silence. Junmyeon blinks at Yifan because he can’t think of anything else to do. Yifan was willing to risk to death at the hands of a madwoman to keep him safe. Yifan loves him so much he’d rather die than see Junmyeon get hurt. Junmyeon loves him so much his head swims with it. It’s why he surges forward to kiss Yifan, eyes fluttering shut when he feels the demon smile against his mouth. “You’re an idiot, you know that? You’re an idiot and I love you and there is no way I’m letting anyone touch you.”

“You promised,” Yifan sing-songs against his lips, “You promised to keep yourself out of danger if I told you. We made a deal, darling.”

Junmyeon takes an insane amount of glee from the look on Yifan’s face when he pulls back and waves his crossed fingers under the demon’s nose. “No, we didn’t. I had my fingers crossed the whole time!” He’s terrified about the future, about the people that he now knows for a fact are coming to kill Yifan and everyone involved. However, if there’s one thing this entire experience has taught him, it’s that his instincts are smarter than the rest of his entire body put together and his instincts tell him that he’ll be okay, they’ll all be okay.

“I can’t believe you! This is why Zitao cheats at mancala; you’re such a little-,” Yifan cuts himself off with a yell and smacks his head on the kitchen table. Junmyeon is a little offended; Zitao doesn’t cheat at mancala, Junmyeon just taught him how to win every time because he enjoys seeing Yifan lose his mind. There is nothing funnier than watch a six-foot-two demon lose game after game to a little boy less than half his size, except maybe hearing the demon hype himself up in the bathroom about winning the next game.

“Junmyeon, please, I need you to promise me-”

“No.” Another thunk of Yifan’s head against the table. Junmyeon catches his head before he can do it again and lifts until Yifan is looking him the eye. “So they _tried_ to kill Baekhyun, _tried_ to seal Jackson. They’ve never succeeded before, what’s make you think they’ll succeed now?”

“Because they succeeded in sealing me into the house in the first place!” Yifan sighs through his nose like Junmyeon is horribly unreasonable. “Fine, you don’t have to promise me, but understand that _I’m_ promising to keep you and Zitao safe and you can’t stop me.” Yifan uses his grip on Junmyeon’s hand to pull him in close and kiss him again. And again and again and again until Junmyeon’s head starts to swim and he realizes Yifan’s doing it as a distraction. He turns his head to the side to clear his mind, shoving playfully at Yifan’s face.

And promptly screams when he sees Zitao standing there with a blanket around his shoulders. Yifan startles with a yelp and Zitao blinks sleepily. “You’re not mad at me and Mama anymore,” Zitao asks around a yawn.

Yifan’s face softens into that of the man Junmyeon fell in love with and he reaches over to pull Zitao up into his lap. “I was never mad at either of you. I was mad at myself because I was being stupid and mean.”

“Mama says it’s good to talk about why you’re mad. He always makes me talk about it.”

“That’s because Mama is very smart and you should listen to him all the time,” Yifan gives Junmyeon a wide, cheesy smile. Zitao yawns so wide Junmyeon’s jaw aches in sympathy and both adults can’t help but coo at their son’s sleepy smile. Yifan hefts him up to rest against his shoulder, “Alright, TaoTao, bedtime for everyone. Hey, did you guys eat all the middle brownies? Those are the only good ones, come on!”

All the stress that’s been hiding behind Yifan’s eyes is gone, it’s the best thing Junmyeon’s seen in a long time. Junmyeon is scared, aware of the danger, but it’s so fucking worth it to see Yifan relax as the weight is lifted off his shoulders. He’s not Yifan’s forever, but he’ll do what he can to make the present memorable even when he’s long gone and Yifan finds the person he’s meant to be with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! If you did, I would love it if you were so kind as to leave a kudos and a comment or come talk to me at on [ Twitter. ](https://twitter.com/killmeDO) I also opened up a [ Curious Cat ](https://curiouscat.me/killmeDO) please come ask questions about the story or anything else! (I love talking to you guys and I would love to hear what you think of this story!)


	14. XIV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is actually the longest chapter I think. It's like 8.6k and I just can't believe myself lmao. The smut was all written at once thanks to Versace on the Floor by Bruno Mars but I still have no faith in my smut skills bc this was written months ago and I'm just v weird about writing smut haha.
> 
> Also...800 kudos! (if this hits 1000 I'll actually explode okay. this fic is my baby and i get so excited when i see people liking it and dropping asks in my CC about the world and the logistics of everything.) Which reminds me, if u have any questions about this, check my CC! Some kind soul has been asking lots of questions abt this universe so I might've answered any questions you have~
> 
> As always, thank you [Aarushi](https://twitter.com/AarushiC_18) for being my beta and not killing me when she wakes up to me screaming about another fic idea i have.

“Junmyeon!” The door to his classroom slams open and Junmyeon lets out the second most unmanly shriek of his life – the first was the incident with the lamp and Yifan in his bed. Minseok is standing in the doorway, looking more exasperated than he should have the right to for someone who most likely ran screaming through an elementary school. “Did you get my texts?” Junmyeon nods but scoots backwards in his chair, ready to dive for cover under his desk. “Why didn’t you text me back?! It’s important, Junmyeon, really fucking important!”

Chanyeol lost track of the witches/hunters last week and they’ve all been tense. They have no idea where they are or where they’re going, just that the hunters were somewhere near Quebec last Tuesday. Raw panic shoots through his veins; the hunters are here. They’re here and Junmyeon isn’t there to help. The terror makes his movements uncoordinated and sloppy, hands shaking as he tries to dig his car keys out of his pockets. He should’ve left and gone straight home like normal. It’s the last day before winter break, he’d just wanted to go back through his gradebook and make sure everything was in order and now it’s cost him everything.

He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe he can’t breathe he can’t brea-

“Oh, oh no. Junmyeon, it’s not that,” Minseok appears in front of his face, hands gentle as they pull his trembling fingers out of his pockets. “Yifan and Zitao are fine, they’re perfectly fine. They’re waiting for you at home, safe and healthy. I’m sorry – take a deep breath for me, there you go – I know how on edge you’ve been lately and I should’ve been less…dramatic. Do you want me to call Yifan and make sure they’re okay?” Junmyeon nods, head swimming from the panic. What if Yifan is dead? He said the hunters have killed demons before, they could do it again. They’d go after Zitao too, wouldn’t they? They’d kill a five-year-old without a second thought if they had a suspicion that he knew what Yifan was.

Minseok grabs Junmyeon’s phone off the desk and dials as fast he can, pressing it up to Junmyeon’s ear the second the it starts to ring. Yifan answers immediately, like he always does when it’s Junmyeon’s name on the screen, “ _Hello, darling, are you on your way home yet? Zitao and I are making…_ attempting _to make lasagna. Yes, I’m on the phone with Mama. Okay, okay, I’ll tell him. Zitao says hi and that he loves you.”_ Then there’s only the sound of Junmyeon’s shuddering, uneven breaths. They’re okay. Yifan and Zitao are okay and they’re making dinner. “ _Junmyeon, love, are you alright?”_

“Y-yeah, I’m fine. Just wanted to hear your voice. I’ll be home soon. Don’t let Zitao know there’s garlic bread, he’ll eat it all and make himself sick.”

If Yifan notices the odd tremble to his voice, he doesn’t mention it. Probably doesn’t want to let Zitao know there’s something wrong; the little boy found out about the hunters on accident and has enough on his little shoulders already. “ _I know, trust me, I know. I’ve got it hidden away where not even Detective Zitao can find it. I love you, darling. Come home soon, we miss you. Call me if you need_ anything.”

“Love you guys. I’ll see you soon.” The line goes dead, likely because Zitao yelled something about garlic bread in the freezer and Yifan had to go stop their son from eating the whole loaf. The memory of listening to Zitao talk about how cool it is that they always have food in the house, food that Zitao is allowed to eat, comes unbidden. It’s wildly irrelevant, but Junmyeon can’t help remembering learning the origins of Zitao’s tendency to eat too much, how JiaJia liked to use food as punishment. Zitao is still getting used to the idea of food as a basic human right.

Junmyeon takes the phone when Minseok hands it to him, looking horribly guilty and more than a little concerned.

Junmyeon’s been unwaveringly brave since finding out about the hunters, unwaveringly brave to everyone but Minseok. “Does Yifan know how bad it’s gotten?” Yifan has no idea, Junmyeon’s made sure of it. The demon had been so afraid to tell him about the hunters for his own safety, mental and physical; it would break Yifan’s heart to know that Junmyeon is being eaten from the inside out with worry. Junmyeon doesn’t sleep some nights, instead spending hours curled against Yifan’s side and reassuring himself that they’re alive. He fakes sleep when morning comes, fakes waking up to Yifan’s kisses while asking himself just how many mornings like this he’s going to get.

It’s gotten worse since Zitao started sleeping in his own room. Before, Junmyeon could keep both of them close at night and take comfort in the fact that they’re both safe in his grasp and maybe salvage a few hours of sleep. Junmyeon has taken to getting up every hour and checking on him, poking his head in the little boy’s bedroom and making sure that Zitao is still sleeping peacefully across the hall. He’s pretty sure Yifan’s starting to notice that, at least. The demon woke in the middle of the night while Junmyeon was out checking on Zitao once; he tried to explain it away as a trip to the bathroom and Yifan didn’t call him out on the fact that the door to their bathroom was on the other side of the room, but he did keep Junmyeon anchored close for the rest of the night to stop him from getting up again.

“How am I supposed to tell him? I made him tell me and swore up and down that I could handle it. Yifan would blame himself if he found out,” Junmyeon leans into the comfort of Minseok’s body heat. He can feel Minseok huff but wraps around him in a hug anyway. “It’s not his fault, Minnie, it’s really not, but I think about losing him and Zitao all the time. I was putting Zitao down for a nap last weekend and it turns out I just sat there after he fell asleep for two hours, just _thinking._ It’s not always about the hunters either-” Junmyeon wants to kick himself the second the words are out of his mouth. He hasn’t told anyone about that fear, not even Minseok. He hates himself for it, hates that he is so preoccupied by the idea of a person who may or may not exist yet when there is a very real danger on the horizon.

And yet, when Minseok tightens his hug and makes a noise for him to continue the words spill out like ink on paper, “It could be anyone. Yifan could just go to the store one day and meet his human and then… Where would that leave me? Would he just drop everything and leave us to go be with them? I know they would make him happy, happier than I could ever hope to, but I don’t want to think about letting him go. I’m so selfish, Minnie.” He really is, isn’t he? Junmyeon’s seen the way Luhan lights up when he sees Minseok, how Yixing seems to be more comfortable in his own skin when Baekhyun is near. How can he not want that for Yifan if he really, truly loves him?

“You’re not selfish,” Junmyeon can physically hear the smile in Minseok’s voice, soft and gentle and somehow completely understanding, “I promise you you’re not. You’re both just really, really dumb.” Minseok pushes him away before he can really register what the other man said, standing up and fishing his phone out of his pocket, “Thankfully, you have me, who is very observant and determined to see my best friend happy. And Yifan has Luhan, who has the backbone of a chocolate éclair.”

Junmyeon takes the phone when it’s offered to him, messaging app open to Luhan’s messages. They’re all surprisingly mundane updates about how much the demon hates the conference he and Yixing are at for their company – not even Baekhyun is really sure what the company does, but it’s stupidly successful and Yixing drags Luhan to conferences about twice a year – and Junmyeon wonders how reading Luhan being grossly sappy about missing Minseok is relevant. Then Minseok scrolls down to messages dated to a little over an hour ago.

**From: Luhan**

_Minseok, we’ve talked about this. I can’t._

**To: Luhan**

_You promised that we’d do things my way_

Junmyeon tries to give the phone back after reading the first two texts, suddenly uncomfortable, but Minseok refuses to take it from him. He knows that things are awkward between Luhan and Minseok at best; he’d really rather not read what is clearly devolving into a fight. “Just keep reading. Trust me.” So Junmyeon does, because Minseok is unerringly protective of his phone and he can’t remember the last time the other man let him touch the thing, much less go through messages.

**From: Luhan**

_And I promised Yifan it would stay between him and I_

_I know the power thing is very important to you but I made a promise to Yifan first. Anything else you want to ask of me is yours. Just not this_

**To: Luhan**

_Nope. This was not our deal. You promised, Luhan_

**From: Luhan**

_I will keep my promises to both of you. Just ask me for something else._

**To: Luhan**

_No._

_Promises don’t come with loopholes._

**From: Luhan**

_And best friends don’t break their promises._

**To: Luhan**

_So your friendship with Yifan is more important than my friendship with Junmyeon?_

_Great. Thanks._

**From: Luhan**

_For fuck’s sake, Minseok, that’s just cruel_

_You know that’s not what I meant. Junmyeon is the most important person in the world to you._

**To: Luhan**

_So why am I supposed to let him suffer just to make you and Yifan comfortable?_

_Are my feelings just less important than his?_

**From: Luhan**

_No. They’re not. Junmyeon is the most important person to you but you’re the most important person to me._

_I’ll send it._

**_Attachment: 091317.mov_ **

**To: Luhan**

_Thank you._

Junmyeon is still hopelessly confused when he looks up from the screen. Minseok stops him from scrolling down, but he still has no idea why it’s relevant. Something is prickling in the depths of his stomach though, fluttery and nervous. The detached tone to the messages, the way Minseok doesn’t give Luhan an inch until he gets what he wants, it makes Junmyeon feel a little off-kilter.

“The video, Junmyeon,” Minseok urges, soft and kind and the world rights itself just a bit. He remembers that whatever is in the video, whatever Minseok weaseled out of Luhan, it’s for him.

And so Junmyeon clicks on the video, horribly unsure of what he’s going to find.

_It’s his kitchen, although it looks barren and sad like it did when he first moved in. The phone is pointed out the kitchen window to the driveway, where his and Yifan’s cars should be, but it’s empty. The whole scene reminds Junmyeon too much of what life was like before Yifan and Zitao._

_"I can’t believe it,” Luhan’s voice comes crackling through loud and clear, “you’re back. I’m only going to say this once, so savor it, but I’m so glad you’re free.”_

_Junmyeon would know Yifan’s laugh anywhere. “I missed you too, Lu. Fuck, I missed being alive. It feels so good to get to actually feel things.”_

_Yixing comes into frame, smirking knowingly at the camera. He stares at it the entire time he speaks, making a point Junmyeon fails to understand. “Fate works in interesting ways, doesn’t it? I found Baekhyun just as he was being sold to a brothel and your human found you before JiaJia could come back and try to enslave you again.”_

Junmyeon pauses the video and tries to hand the phone back to Minseok, tears stinging his eyes. It happened, Yifan found the love of his life. He found the love of his life and wanted to keep it a secret from Junmyeon. How long has he been a side hoe? Junmyeon feels like someone reached into his chest and ripped his heart out.

Minseok still won’t take the phone back. He backs Junmyeon up to the wall and turns the phone back around. He presses play. Junmyeon, still crying because he has to go home to a man who is in love with _someone else_ , watches because he’s a fucking masochist.

_Yifan crosses the frame and the camera follows him to where the demon grabs a piece of paper from on top of the fridge. It’s a drawing Junmyeon’s never seen before, one of three people standing together holding hands. Zitao’s unmistakable scrawl is in the corner and in little characters above each person. Junmyeon knows he’s never seen that picture before, but it’s almost annoyingly familiar._

_“I never believed the shit you used to spew about Baekhyun before I saw him. Watching him walk up the path to the house with Donna was… It was like getting to stare into my own future. Junmyeon’s the most perfect person I’ve ever met,” Yifan turns the paper toward Luhan, seemingly unaware of the camera, “He’s everything I’ve ever wanted. And he’s everything that Zitao deserves. That kid loves his Mama – look, Junmyeon gets hearts and stars next to his name while I’m stuck with a single rainbow.”_

_“Does he know that he’s yours yet? I could watch your kid for a few hours while you two… take care of business,” Luhan says as he raises the camera to get a good look at Yifan’s love-sick expression. And god, Junmyeon can just hear the sleazy smirk on Luhan’s face._

_Yifan’s entire body tenses visibly, “How am I supposed to tell him? Junmyeon’s still on edge whenever I’m around. The bond between us pulls him in but he’s terrified the second he realizes how close we are. It can wait. I’m alive and he’s here and that’s enough. Also, you’re never watching Zitao unsupervised, you’ll traumatize him – are you recording a fucking video?” Yifan’s eyes bore holes into the camera and the video cuts off halfway through Luhan stammering out an excuse._

Junmyeon doesn’t remember his knees giving out, but he’s sliding down the wall all the same. “Oh,” he whispers to himself, “Luhan said when we met…” Junmyeon has a distinct recollection of ‘ _He’s tied down now, got a mate and kid and everything_ ’ and ‘ _Not my fault that Yifan’s human is so sensitive_ ’. How had Junmyeon missed it?

“I had my suspicions,” Minseok settles down next to him, “there was something in the way Yifan looked at you that just made me wonder, but I never had any real proof. Then I was going through Luhan’s pictures a few weeks ago looking for the one he took of Zitao on Halloween and found the video. Luhan took his phone back before I could send it to myself and he said that he’d erase it if I told you about it. Yifan wanted to tell you on his own terms, but…it felt wrong. You’re my best friend and you look at Yifan like hung the sun and moon just for you. Yifan has been in love with you since the second he saw you but he’s too stupid to realize that you _want_ to be his.”

And he does. Junmyeon belongs with Yifan, has belonged with him from the moment the demon popped into existence and the powers-that-be decided that Junmyeon and Yifan were meant to be together. He feels a little giddy, a little floaty. Yifan thinks he’s perfect. Yifan _loves_ him, loves him so much he wants to be with him _forever._

“I should take a picture of this. You’ve got this big stupid smile on your face.” Junmyeon can’t find it in him to do anything more than knock his shoulder against Minseok’s.

There is no random person in the grocery store, no other human that could appear at any moment and bring Junmyeon’s world crashing down. He knows that’s not exactly true, not with the hunters lingering around every corner, but it settles something within him regardless. Junmyeon likes the idea of belonging to Yifan, likes the idea that Yifan belongs to him even more. It feels right.

What doesn’t feel right is the way Minseok stares at his phone with his bottom lip trapped between his teeth. When Junmyeon nudges him, he drops the frown and tries to plaster on a smile, but it comes out more like a grimace. The phone screen is still lit up and Junmyeon feels his floaty-silly delight waver. Minseok’s thumb rests on Luhan’s message of _I’m doing this for you, please don’t throw it back in my face_ , an _I’m sorry. I couldn’t let him hurt. I had to_ going from ‘delivered’ to ‘read’. Minseok turns the screen off as three little grey dots pop up and pushes himself to his feet before Junmyeon can say anything. “Well, I’m on cooking duty tonight,” Minseok brushes imaginary dirt off his ass and extends a hand to help Junmyeon up, “so I’ll see you tomorrow for sledding, right? Baekhyun says the hill by his house is should be perfect as long as it keeps snowing and that Mongryeong is very excited to have a sledding partner.”

Minseok’s phone starts to buzz violently in his hands and Junmyeon can see text after text from Luhan light up the screen. Something like dread flashes in Minseok’s eyes and then he’s walking out the door, “Love you, Jun, let me know how it all goes down!” Junmyeon watches him go because it’s clear he’s not going to get a word in edgewise, but makes plans to make the bed upstairs just in case. Yifan moved his desk down to the living room after redecorating it to make the space less triggering for Zitao and turned the upstairs back into a guest bedroom. It wouldn’t be the first time they’ve had a guest stay the night, though usually that guest is Chanyeol and he pays for his visit by making a little fire for Zitao to roast marshmallows.

Junmyeon locks up the classroom and wonders if he should chase after Minseok and make sure he’s okay. It’s the least he could do for all the peace of mind and bone-deep happiness that Minseok gave him with that video. He rushes to the front door and is nearly there when he sees Minseok drive right past and turn left out of the parking lot. Junmyeon settles for sending Minseok a text to let him know he’s free to come over whenever and treks through the snow to his own car. With each step towards his car, towards home, Junmyeon feels his worry for Minseok be eclipsed by that bouncing, electric excitement from before.

He’s going to go home and tell Yifan that he knows they’re – Junmyeon still doesn’t know what the right word for it is, but he likes the sound of soulmates, no matter how cheesy it is. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen afterwards, but Yifan loves him and he loves Yifan and they both want this. It will work itself out or Junmyeon will _make_ it work.

The inside of his car is almost as cold as the outside air and Junmyeon rushes to get the car started and moving so he can get to his nice, warm house. Just as he’s buckling himself in, his phone squawks, the ringtone Zitao picked for Yifan, and his heart lights up at the message waiting for him. Zitao is waving at the camera from a pillow fort, a big sign written in Mandarin above his head and a carefully constructed wall made of couch cushions blocking the entrance.

**From: Yifan**

_I have lost all control of our son. He had me build him a fort and now won’t let me in._

Junmyeon walks in to that exact situation.

“This is my fort! You can’t come in,” Zitao yells, voice muffled by the blankets and pillows he’s added to the entrance of his fort. “Tall people are the enemy! Baekhyun says they’re evil and eat all your food!” Junmyeon giggles to himself and toes off his shoes as Zitao continues to list all the other awful and mostly untrue things that Baekhyun’s told him about people over sixty-eight inches tall.

Yifan, a demon powerful enough to bend time and space to his will, sits across from the pillow fort with a pout. “I _made_ you this fort, TaoTao! You wouldn’t like it if Mama or I made a fort and didn’t let you come in.” It’s almost jarring, the dichotomy between Yifan the demon and Yifan the father.

Junmyeon hasn’t had many opportunities to see Yifan as anything other than a mild-mannered dork since JiaJia – an incident that still only comes to him in bits and pieces – but he knows that his boyfriend is still making deals with humans desperate enough to come searching for him. Yifan disappears on occasions, summoned by humans ready to trade their lives away for whatever the demon can offer them. Junmyeon feels an odd sense of pity for them. Partly for the situations they must be in to feel like summoning a demon is their only option and partly because Yifan is never in a good mood when he’s summoned.

One poor soul called on him while he was helping Zitao learn how to take a shower and keep the shampoo from getting in his eyes. Junmyeon rushed into the bathroom when Zitao screamed only to find his son pressed up against the shower wall and staring at the space where his father used to be in sheer terror. For all the progress they’ve made with Zitao and his separation anxiety, they hadn’t thought to prepare him for Yifan blinking out of existence right in front of him. Junmyeon still doesn’t know what happened to the person that summoned Yifan, only that the demon came back seething mad with his rough, scaly wings unfurled and a thunderous expression on his face.

It doesn’t match up to the man sighing dramatically as he is told in no uncertain terms that he’s not allowed in his son’s pillow fort. Junmyeon likes it this way. He’s not stupid, not ignorant about _that_ side of Yifan, but the soft domestic thing is the real Yifan, the one that snores when he sleeps on his back and picks Zitao up so he can put the star on the Christmas tree. The real Yifan is the one that brightens when Junmyeon steps into the living room and scrambles to his feet for a kiss.

This the man he’s going to spend forever with.

When they pull back, Junmyeon searches for what had tipped Minseok off in the first place. Something in the way Yifan looked at him. It’s all the same to Junmyeon, the love, the joy, the unfettered desire. And maybe that’s it. The way Yifan looks at him hasn’t changed since the day they met; Yifan’s loved him the whole time, he’s just been waiting for Junmyeon to catch up. Junmyeon hides his overly large smile in Yifan’s chest and sighs when the demon’s arms wrap around his waist in a hug.

“You okay, darling? You sounded a little off over the phone,” Yifan murmurs in his ear.

Junmyeon just nods, “Yeah, just missed you two.” Yifan hums and squeezes a little tighter.

Zitao hasn’t let up in his long list of reasons why tall people are evil and not allowed in his fort. He’s been going for nearly three minutes now and hasn’t repeated a single reason; Junmyeon’s honestly a little impressed. Then he turns his head to get a look at his little boy and sees that Zitao’s got Yifan’s phone next to his ear and is repeating whatever he hears. Probably Baekhyun. _Definitely_ Baekhyun.

“Your legs are long ‘cause they’re full of evi- Mama! Come look at my fort!”

Yifan scoffs, “So he’s allowed in and I’m not?” Zitao nods and smiles, bright as the sun. “Your mother is ta- he’s almost tall! I’m the one who helped you make the fort and the sign and everything! Junmyeon, our son’s a traitor.”

Junmyeon leans in for another kiss. “Let me handle this.” Yifan nods, a little dazed and Junmyeon wonders how he never noticed how dopey Yifan gets after a single kiss. Junmyeon moves out of the demon’s arms and over to where Zitao is smiling at him from the pillow fort, “May I come in?” Zitao makes this big, grand sweeping motion with his arms and pulls a few pillows away from the barricade. Junmyeon crawls in, though he nearly knocks the whole thing over because it’s got the stability of a late-stage Jenga tower.

Zitao crawls into his lap the second he’s settled and Junmyeon tilts the little boy’s chin up until they’re eye-to-eye, “Zitao, I want to talk about you not letting Baba into your fort.” Guilt and maybe a bit of betrayal flashes across Zitao’s face. Junmyeon takes a deep breath to steady himself and then, “It’s wonderful and I agree. Tall people suck!” He points at Yifan, “Haha, you’re stuck outside the fort! No tall people allowed!”

Yifan’s jaw drops in utter shock. “Wha… But you said…” He takes a few steps forward and crouches down to look Junmyeon in the eye. He’s doing his best to put on an angry face, but the corners of his mouth keep twitching up as Junmyeon and Zitao wave at him from inside the fort.

“See! Mama says you can’t come in so you can’t ‘cause you said Mama’s always right,” Zitao settles back against Junmyeon’s chest like a king on his throne. His logic is sound, at least.

Except Yifan and logic don’t mix well and the demon decides to fight his way into the fort. “I expected this from Zitao, but you, Junmyeon? I thought we had something special. I thought you loved me!” It’s so, so dramatic – all to make Zitao laugh. It works, of course, Zitao’s howling with laughter, kicking playfully at Yifan’s arms as the demon tries to wiggle into the incredibly small fort. It’s a perfect size for Zitao, a good fit when Zitao is in Junmyeon’s lap, but there’s no chance the thing can hold all three of them.

The whole thing collapses in a heap before Yifan is halfway in. Junmyeon pops up out of the blankets first, laughing into his hands at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. His life is a fucking domestic sitcom. “You’re picking up the blankets, love.” Yifan makes a noise of protest from somewhere under the pile of cloth, but it’s lost to Zitao’s outrageous laughter. “You knocked the fort down, you get to clean it up. Right, panda bear?”

“Yeah! You say ‘it’s okay if you make a mess as long as you clean it up.’”

Junmyeon digs Yifan’s head out of the blankets and grins at the ridiculous pout on his face. “I’ve lost all control of my life. Hundreds of years of being a feared creature from the depths of hell and now I’m at the mercy of you two.”

“Would you rather it any other way?” Junmyeon pushes Yifan’s hair out of his eyes and backs up so the demon can pull the rest of himself free.

Yifan shakes his head and shifts forward on his hands to steal a kiss, “No way, not a chance. This is everything I’ve ever wanted.”

Junmyeon feels his breath catch in his throat. It had slipped his mind amidst the goofing around and destruction of a truly pitiful pillow fort, but he remembers that he has to tell Yifan that he knows about them. It only happens for a split-second, so fast that Junmyeon wouldn’t have caught it if it wasn’t at the front of his mind, but Yifan’s gaze dips down to somewhere around Junmyeon’s collar bones. He throws a blanket at Yifan’s face to hide that he feels like he’s about to hyperventilate and the moment passes.

They all work together to clean up the mess of blankets and pillows, but Junmyeon’s head has gone back to that video. Yifan and Zitao are chatting about how many more episodes they have before they’re done with some odd show about cartoon cats in ancient China but it gets lost in the thousand and one thoughts flying through his head. The night passes almost in a blur. He remembers talking about everyone’s day over lasagna, all three of them curled up on the new couch as Zitao does his best to not make an absolute mess of himself. It doesn’t work, of course, and Junmyeon is the one that supervises his shower.

“Are you and Baba gonna get married?” Junmyeon is so shocked he nearly drops the rag he’d been using to wash Zitao’s back. Zitao goes on completely unaware, shoving his head into shower and pulling back to shake off like a dog. “Baekkie and Yixing are married ‘cause they love each other and you are Baba love each other. So why aren’t you married?”

“We’re…uh,” Junmyeon blinks, stupefied. “We’re waiting. Baekhyun and Yixing didn’t get married for a long, long time, even after they fell in love.” Four hundred and seventy years later, in fact. Of course, that had more to do with the world’s slowly changing attitudes towards homosexuality than what they actually wanted to do.

“Baekkie said that was ‘cause people didn’t like it when boys loved other boys,” Junmyeon hates and loves Baekhyun all at once. He’s done great things in helping Zitao adapt to the world around him – Zitao can go to the grocery store without breaking down from overstimulation _and_ go for walks around the neighborhood with adults other than just Junmyeon and Yifan – but Zitao’s also become a lot harder to out-argue. “People thinks it okay now though. The ladies at the park think you and Baba are _very_ cute together. And if you get married, you’ll have a party with cake and I like cake.”

There it is, a way out. Junmyeon laughs despite the odd feeling squirming in his chest. He should have known there was some ulterior motive to this. He doesn’t say anything though, instead focuses on helping Zitao finish washing up. Junmyeon waits to touch the subject again until he’s tugging Zitao’s pajama shirt over his head, “How about this: you and I can bake a cake this weekend and Baba and I wait until we’re ready to get married?”

“Can be it chocolate cake?”

“Whatever flavor you want. Do we have a deal,” Junmyeon runs the towel over Zitao’s head one more time, scrubbing until the little boy laughs. “Hm, do we have a deal? Do we? Do we? Do we?” He blows a raspberry into the side of Zitao’s neck and Zitao squirms out of his arms, little squealing giggles following him as he runs out of the bathroom.

Junmyeon lets him run, taking his few moments of privacy to finish drying himself off and plan how to tackle the brick wall of a problem staring him in the face. He knows how to deal with child-related problems, confrontation is always easier when the person he’s confronting won’t remember why they’re mad in a few hours. Yifan can’t be dealt with through tickles and promises of cake. This problem is bigger than a stolen toy or not understanding how marriage works. Junmyeon has to sit Yifan down and tell him in no uncertain terms that he knows what the demon’s been hiding all this time. Just say _I know I’m your human._ Like ripping off a Band-Aid.

Junmyeon wonders how ridiculous he looks, talking silently to his reflection in the fogged-up bathroom mirror, but the pep talk does wonders. When Yifan pokes his head in to let him know that Zitao’s ready for bed, Junmyeon doesn’t feel like he’s drowning in his own

head anymore.

Zitao falls asleep halfway through the bedtime story, nodding off against Junmyeon’s chest even as he swears he’s not tired. Yifan turns on the nightlight as Junmyeon makes sure Zitao’s tucked in and comfortable, smoothing his still damp hair back from his face and kissing his forehead goodnight. Then they return to their own bedroom in semi-awkward silence, curling up together like always but feeling the odd heaviness hanging in the air around them.

They lie in bed in complete silence for what feels like hours. The bedside clock says it’s only been twenty minutes but Junmyeon really just can’t believe it. Even as comfortable as he is curled against Yifan’s side, the tension in the air makes each minute stretch out into an eternity. He’d felt so confident of his plan in the bathroom. Now the idea of saying just _I know_ makes him feel like dinner might be making a repeat performance. And so he counts Yifan’s heartbeats and decides that once they reach some vague, far-off number he’ll suck it up and say it. He gets to fifty before he realizes he never picked a number in the first place and is just counting up to infinity.

“I know.” Junmyeon startles so badly he nearly slams the top of his head into Yifan’s chin. Thankfully Yifan was already starting to sit up and put just enough distance between his jaw and Junmyeon’s skull. Still, that was supposed to be Junmyeon’s line and now that buzzing, fluttering feeling in his stomach takes a whole new twist. What could Yifan know? Does he know that Junmyeon knows? Does he think he knows that Junmyeon knows that he knows that Junmyeon knows? Junmyeon’s head spins. He pushes himself to sit up as well and tries to search Yifan’s face for any sign of what the demon knows.

“I know,” Junmyeon’s mouth takes on a mind of its own.

Yifan’s eyebrow arches up in question, “You know that I know or you know something else?”

“It depends on what you know because I might know that you know that I know or I might not know what you know.” Junmyeon feels like he’s speaking in tongues, and from the way that Yifan’s looking at him he might as well be. The idea of Yifan being the one to breach the subject, the one to put it all out in the open, sounds perfect; Junmyeon decides to keep his mouth shut and let Yifan talk.

Except Yifan is too kind, too sweet, to be selfish and take the lead. “You go first. I have no idea what you know or you think I know,” even with the serious, hardened set to his jaw and determination behind his eyes, Yifan smiles as he speaks. He laughs a little and nudges their shoulder together because he must feel the tension pulling Junmyeon’s body taut like a bowstring and oh god, Junmyeon _loves him so much_.

Somewhere along the course of this relationship, Junmyeon lost the ability to stop his mouth from spouting off things he’s not yet ready to say. He’s always been cautiously curious, but then Yifan popped into his life and now he rushes headfirst into _everything_ , “I know I’m your human.”

The silence is deafening.

“Oh,” Yifan is so quiet, staring at the bedsheets as he blinks, “Oh… _Oh!”_ Junmyeon squirms in discomfort when Yifan doesn’t say anything else. Nothing happens, just silence, silence, silence. Yifan doesn’t look up, Junmyeon can’t look away. A gaping void in his stomach grows wider and wider until Junmyeon feels a clench in his jaw like he might actually throw up. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go, it was supposed to be good and loving and perfect. Junmyeon wants to take it back, swallow his words down and pretend that he hasn’t just ruined this.

And then, “We don’t have to do anything about until you’re ready. I know it’s a lot to take in and I’m willing to wait until you feel comfortable enough to commit. We both know how things were with Minseok and Luhan and I don’t want us to ever be like that. So, it’s your choice. Take all the time you need,” Yifan puts on a brave face and pats Junmyeon’s knee. And that’s not what Junmyeon expected at all, or maybe it was. Yifan’s more than self-sacrificing enough to withhold information that he thought would make Junmyeon unhappy even if it was to his own detriment.

“Why wouldn’t I be ready?” Yifan’s eyes blow wide and his mouth opens and closes like a fish. “I never thought it could be me,” Junmyeon feels the beginnings of a rueful smile pulling at his lips, “I thought I was just a placeholder until your human came along and that you’d get rid of me when the time came. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, babe, but I love you. I had planned on sticking around for as long as you’d let me, but now I guess you’re stuck with me for- _ever!_ ” Junmyeon’s voice breaks into a squeak when Yifan tackles him down to the mattress, face so close that the demon is all he can see. He feels like he can’t breathe. He doesn’t _want_ to breathe if it keeps Yifan here like this.

“There will never be anyone else but you. There has never _been_ anyone else for me but you,” Yifan’s eyes flicker fluorescent red for a moment and the angles of his face pull a little sharper, a little less human. “I’ve belonged to you from the moment I crawled out of the hellfire and onto this plane. You will never be anything less than everything to me. Do you understand?” Yifan doesn’t give him time to respond, time to process, before pressing their lips together in kiss that steals the air out of Junmyeon’s lungs. It’s filthy from the start, all tongue and teeth and Yifan’s hands gripping just shy of too hard on his hips.

“Tell me no,” Yifan’s voice comes out in a growl against his lips when they finally pull away, “I need you to tell me to stop. I don’t think I can on my own.” Junmyeon can see it when he finally opens his eyes, a feral edge to his gaze. He’s never seen Yifan lose control, it makes something in his gut go liquid and hot. “Junmyeon, tell me to stop.” Yifan’s hands teeter past the edge of too tight and it only serves to make Junmyeon want more. More kisses, more of his hands, more of whatever Yifan will give him.

“But I don’t want you to stop.” It takes a bit of shifting, but Junmyeon manages to wiggle his lower body out from under Yifan enough to spread his legs and settle them around Yifan’s hips. “Please.”

Yifan closes his and lets his head drop to Junmyeon’s shoulder, huffing out warm puffs of air onto the side of his neck. Junmyeon feels goosebumps break out along his skin as he tries to suppress a shiver. “Do you even know what you’re asking for?” How could he not? Junmyeon is a tad oblivious, but he’s not stupid. It hadn’t taken much logic to connect Minseok’s texts about one-night stand to the bite on his neck.

“I’ve got it pretty much figured out. Please, Yifan. If-if you don’t want to you don’t ha-”

“Don’t want to?! Do you know how fucking gorgeous you are,” Yifan worries the skin of Junmyeon’s shoulder between his teeth, growling to himself, “I heard you have a fucking wet dream _about me_ last week and I think I almost died. I’ve thought about this since I first laid eyes on you, but this means forever. If we go through with this there’s no going back.”

“Then there’s no going back. I’m yours just as you’re mine.” Junmyeon reaches down to pull Yifan’s face back up to kiss him again, slower and sweeter but no less hungry. He can feel the moment Yifan believes him, letting go of his hips to lean his weight on his forearms and pressing Junmyeon further into the sheets. Junmyeon can’t remember ever being so submissive to anyone else, always too concerned with control and frat boys that didn’t know what they were doing to just let go. Yifan’s got him melting though, handing over control and just _feeling._

Yifan’s hands slip under his shirt and soon the demon is rucking up to his armpits and then over his head, pulling away from his lips just long enough for the shirt to pass by. “I love you,” Yifan murmurs, “I love you so much.” Junmyeon opens his mouth to respond, to tell Yifan that he’s just as gone on him, but he nearly chokes on a gasp instead when Yifan pinches one of his nipples. The demon laughs and does it again, pinning Junmyeon hands above his head with the other hand when Junmyeon goes to slap his hand away.

“I regret telling you about them so much. So, so much – _ah!_ ” Junmyeon’s whole body twitches when Yifan ducks his head down to lap at the nipple he’d originally left alone. Junmyeon had been a little hard when they started but the shocks of pleasure from his chest are going straight to his dick. He whimpers when Yifan sucks _hard_ and bucks his hips. “Holy – _ah-ah_ , Yifan don’t tease! At least take off your shirt too.” Yifan rises up on his knees to tug his shirt up and over his head. The second his hands are free, Junmyeon crosses his arms to cover his reddened and sensitive nipples.

Yifan’s eyes keep flickering red like he can’t control it and it’s possibly one of the hottest things Junmyeon’s ever seen. He leans back down and cups Junmyeon’s face in his hands, “Are you sure, darling? I don’t think I can stop if we go any farther than this.” Junmyeon doesn’t even pay attention to the latter half of what he’s saying; Yifan will stop if Junmyeon says stop, a certainty like the sun rising in the morning.

“I’m sure. Ask me again and I’ll hurt you,” Junmyeon squirms around, trying to sit up and roll them over so something can actually happen and accidently grinds his hard-on against Yifan’s crotch. He moans long and loud, eyes closing of their own accord as he rolls his hips again. Yifan’s hands grasp his hips to stop him and their hold is so hard it’s probably going to bruise. Junmyeon moans again because Yifan worked him up with too much nipple play and his nerves are getting confused about pain and pleasure. When Junmyeon opens his eyes again, Yifan is staring at him open-mouthed and he looks more than a little fucked up.

Then Yifan’s hooking two fingers in the waistband of his boxers and tugging down his pants and underwear in one go. Junmyeon’s cock bounces against his stomach with a wet slap once it’s free and Junmyeon hides his blushing face in his arms. That only serves to expose his chest though, and Yifan’s clever fingers take the opportunity to torture Junmyeon’s nipples until he’s squirming and begging for mercy. His hands fly away from his face, but settle on Yifan’s shoulders like the have a mind of their own.

“Not f-fair,” Junmyeon has to gasp for air, so fucking worked up that he’s ready to kick Yifan if the demon doesn’t start getting on with it. “Th-this is cheat – _ah, fuck_ – cheating!”

Yifan laughs next to his ear, voice rough like Junmyeon’s never heard it before, “How is making you feel good cheating? Isn’t that what I’m supposed to be doing?” Junmyeon just whines, high and needy, and writhes helplessly. “I’m going to see how long I can keep you riled up sometime, you’re so pretty like this.” Junmyeon might actually die if he does that. Out of all the things he experimented with back in college, orgasm delay was not one of them.

Yifan’s hands finally give his poor nipples a break. Junmyeon takes a few moments to catch his breath as Yifan fishes in the bedside drawer. Then there’s the sound of a cap popping open and closed and then one long-fingered hand is wrapping around the base of his cock and the other is rubbing slick circles against his hole. His legs try to clamp shut on instinct but can’t when Yifan is right there between them, staring at Junmyeon’s ass like it’s the key to nirvana.

“Relax for me,” Yifan slips one finger in, lube still cold, and Junmyeon sucks in sharp breath through his nose because he forgot how fucking _long_ Yifan’s fingers are.

“C’mere, kiss me,” Junmyeon needs something to distract him from the odd feeling in his ass. He’s fingered himself before, has a few toys that have been locked up since he became the father of a five-year-old, but he’s never let someone else stick their fingers inside him. It feels so fucking weird.

Yifan lets go of his cock – not like he’d been doing much of anything than holding it in his hand – and uses that arm to balance as he leans down to kiss Junmyeon. Junmyeon sighs into his mouth as the finger inside him begins to move and lets his own hands wander across Yifan’s chest. Yifan’s slipping another finger inside him by the time Junmyeon’s started to play with demon’s nipples. They’re not nearly as sensitive as his own, but he finds that if he twists them, Yifan twitches just the slightest.

He doesn’t get a chance to explore that before Yifan finds his prostate and rubs quick hard circles into it until Junmyeon’s hiccupping and caught between trying to grind down and rabbiting his hips away. The third finger just makes it worse. Junmyeon ends up clinging to Yifan’s shoulders for dear life as the demon scissors, stretches, rubs, pushing him right to the edge of orgasm.

“ _Close!_ So close, please!” He’s going to come untouched, solely from three fingers in his ass and Yifan’s mouth at his neck. And then Yifan’s fingers pull out and leave him empty and clenching down on nothing. “Wha- Yifan, why? I need to come!”

Somewhere along the way – probably while Junmyeon was trying not to _die_ from three fingers fucking hard and mean against his prostate – Yifan took his pants off. Junmyeon has the fleeting thought that he’s not going to be able to sit right for a week as Yifan grabs the lube from he’d tossed it off to the side and liberally coats his cock with it. He wants to touch it, see what it feels like in his hands, in his mouth, but he’s feeling so selfish and he needs to _come._ It’s not like Yifan seems too concerned with foreplay either as he presses the head of his dick against Junmyeon’s asshole.

His eyes are red through and through now, not a hint of brown leaking through and Junmyeon wonders if he’s imagining the sharper points of Yifan’s canines when the demon leans down to kiss him again. It’s hot either way.

Yifan kisses him slow and sweet one moment, ravenous the next, and it almost distracts him from the moment when when the pressure against his hole goes from being against to being _inside_.

Yifan’s too big, there’s no way he’s going to fit, and yet Junmyeon just gasps his way through the burn and lets the demon bottom out. He’d pull out if Junmyeon asked, he knows Yifan would, but Junmyeon’s brain is getting all the wires crossed and the burn just pushes him closer and closer to orgasm. Junmyeon gets a few moments to adjust, both of them breathing heavy and hot. Junmyeon wants to moan, wants to _scream_ because it feels so, so good, but they’re both aware that Zitao is in the next room and the last thing they want is to be cockblocked by their own son.

So when Yifan starts thrusting, hard and fast from the start, Junmyeon muffles his cries against the demon’s shoulder and tries not to scream. Then Yifan adjusts his angle and drives directly into Junmyeon’s prostate and he ends up having to bite down on his own hand to stop the shriek that tries to claw its way out.

Time, thought, any words besides _Please_ and _Yifan_ , are lost to him because he’s never been fucked so good. He probably should’ve told Yifan, let him know that he’s never been the one getting fucked _period_ , but Junmyeon can barely remember his own name, much less form a sentence.

Junmyeon’s so close, so fucking close. He just needs Yifan to touch him but the demon _won’t_ and Junmyeon’s going to die. Yifan is brushing past his prostate with every slide out and thrust back in but it’s not enough. “Please. I need – please please _please!_ ” Yifan just kisses along his shoulder, hips pistoning like a machine and Junmyeon feels tears start to pool in the corners of his eyes. He goes to take his cock in his own hands but then Yifan’s hands fly up from his nipples to press his wrists into the sheets by his head.

“Just a little more, darling. I just need you to hold on for a little longer,” Yifan kisses his temple, fucks him harder, and all that’s keeping Junmyeon from screaming in frustration is the knowledge that Zitao is just across the hall. He can’t get any leverage to thrust back with his hands trapped by his head and his legs on Yifan’s shoulders. He just has to _take it_ until he dies or Yifan lets him come. Whatever comes first.

Finally, Yifan’s hips start to lose their rhythm, stuttering and grinding as the demon tries to get as deep inside as he can. “I love you, I love you, _Iloveyou, Iloveyou, Iloveyou_ ,” Yifan chants like a prayer in his ear and Junmyeon hiccups out the same when he can get the air and the focus. Then Yifan slams in one last time, grinding in _deep_. He kisses a spot low on Junmyeon’s neck as hard as he can, “You’re an eternity to me.” And then sharp, sharp teeth are clamping down _hard_ on Junmyeon’s neck.

It _hurts_ , burns unlike anything he’s ever felt before, but there are too many endorphins for him to make sense of anything and he’s coming so hard his vision whites out. He vaguely remembers the beginning of a scream working its way out of his throat before a gentle hand cover his mouth to muffle the sound, of warmth flooding his stomach, but it’s lost to the pleasure pulsing across his entire body.

When he finally comes to, it’s to Yifan gently cleaning him off with rag. His neck is numb and his ass throbs, but he feels so good. Junmyeon reaches up to touch the bite and mumbles in confusion when it doesn’t hurt. He can feel semi-dried blood, thick and tacky against his skin, but the rest of the area is dead to sensation. Then Yifan moves to clean between his legs and _that hurts_. His hole feels horribly sore and Junmyeon can already feel the ache in his lower back.

“Sorry, darling,” Yifan kisses his knee as he gently fingers his cum out of Junmyeon’s ass, “Should’ve been gentler. Go back to sleep, you need to rest.”

Junmyeon doesn’t want to go to sleep, not without Yifan next to him, but his head is still fuzzy and he can feel Yifan _in_ his chest like some sort of string tying them together. He tugs on feeling and hums to himself when Yifan gives, warmth rushing down the connection and pulling him further into sleep.

He’ll just close his eyes, just for a moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two more chapters to go folks. Also..how was the smut? I feel like it was a hot mess express and I'd love some feedback hahaha bc im about do any other one and im nervous
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! If you did, I would love it if you were so kind as to leave a kudos and a comment! Also feel free to come talk to me! I'm killmeDO on [Tumblr,](http://killmedo.tumblr.com/) [Twitter,](https://twitter.com/killmeDO?lang=en) and [Curious Cat!](https://curiouscat.me/killmeDO) please come ask questions about the story or anything else! (I love talking to you guys and I would love to hear what you think of this story!)


	15. XV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you all thought that the hunters were coming this chapter lmao....but nope! I just wanted some pure fluff before the finale hahahah. And it felt important to bring the whole gang in bc we havent actually had that in a nice, not troublesome way. So...have some Christmas in July and I hope you like it!
> 
> As always, thank you [Aarushi](https://twitter.com/AarushiC_18) for being my beta and trying to reign in the chaos i dump into KKT
> 
> See you all soon for the last chapter and thank you all so much for your support! Please don't forget to come hang out with me on twitter and CC so that you can stay updated with any news for this story, this series, or just the fics I put out in general! <3

“Five and ten is?” Junmyeon watches from his place curled up on the couch as Yifan attempts to get Zitao interested in math. It’s hopeless with the Christmas tree twinkling in the corner of the room, presents piled underneath as neatly as Junmyeon could manage. Zitao’s already opened some, clothing and new colored pencils that are really just replacements for the ones he already has – those things have a month left in them max. The rest are being saved for when Minseok and company finally show up.

“I don’t wanna do math! It’s Christmas!” Zitao tries to weasel out of Yifan’s lap, going boneless and wiggling towards to the floor.

“Math is important. It’s something we use every day. Just – I’m literally one of the strongest people on the planet, TaoTao, I’m going to be able to hold you still – just five more problems. You need to know how to add,” Yifan huffs and puts Zitao over his shoulder to keep him still.

"But who needs fifteen apples?! Not even Chanyeol eats that many and he’s a giant!”

Junmyeon snickers to himself. Yifan had been adamant that he could teach Zitao math – he _was_ there for a good part of its creation – but he didn’t account for the fact that part of teaching includes getting your student interested in the lesson. Zitao loves reading, loves sitting with Junmyeon and working through the steadily growing pile of books on his shelf. It helps that Zitao’s become _obsessed_ with Pokémon; Junmyeon has him read Pokémon cards when he doesn’t feel like picking a book.

He’d tried to warn Yifan that math would be difficult, but the demon is stubborn and now it’s him fighting the battle to get Zitao to do simple addition. Of course, Junmyeon could tell Yifan that the secret to teaching math is to do it with food that the kid can actually eat – no one minds adding chocolate chip cookies, but Yifan made an unintentional comment about how it can’t be that hard to teach children Zitao’s age and Junmyeon’s feeling a little vindictive.

Yifan looks to him for guidance and he just snuggles further into his blanket cocoon, still shaking off the last of the bone deep exhaustion that’s been weighing him down as the bite on his neck heals. He doesn’t understand how Minseok got out of bed, much less drive, the morning after. Junmyeon had spent nearly the entire first day drifting in and out of consciousness. His body still fights him when he tries to do too much more than walk around the house.

Junmyeon decides to take pity on Yifan as the demon tries to stop their child from throwing himself off Yifan’s shoulder and onto the hardwood floor. He’s been an angel – and isn’t that ironic? – while Junmyeon’s been essentially out of commission, managing the house and Zitao while making sure Junmyeon doesn’t push himself too far. Baekhyun’s told him the horror story of what happened after Yixing bit him, how his entire body had failed from trying to withstand the infections it’d been fighting for years and the new strain of demonic energy, but Junmyeon is still so frustrated that he can’t do much more than move around the house.

“Zitao,” Junmyeon calls and the little boy freezes, “Five more problems. Baba’s told you three times already and we’re being lenient because it’s Christmas, but the rule still stands. Your father asked you to do something.” Zitao whines like he’s in pain. “I know, math isn’t fun, but you know the rules.”

The Rules, capital ‘R’ because Zitao recognizes words with capital letters as important.  There are only three of them of them – Say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’, Be gentle with toys, books, and other people, and Listen when Baba or Mama ask you to do something. The first time Zitao broke one of their rules, not listening when Junmyeon asked him to pick up all the crayons he left in the living room, he climbed upstairs to the then unused room and asked if he would get to come down tomorrow for breakfast, if he could get a blanket at night if he promised to be good tomorrow.

Junmyeon doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the resignation in Zitao’s eyes as he climbed the stairs, or the surprise on his face when Junmyeon followed him up the stairs to hold him, made sure he knew that ‘timeouts’ – what JiaJia did wasn’t a time out, it was fucking _solitary confinement_ – were _never_ going to be a punishment. Junmyeon’s pretty sure Zitao still thinks he’s going to be isolated upstairs one of these days for some misbehavior, but he’s learning that natural consequences and redirections are the norm.

“Well, Zitao, you have a choice,” Yifan says once he’s finally wrangled Zitao back down. Zitao perks up and whips his head around, so excited that he forgets that the ‘choices’ never work out in his favor. “You can finish these math problems with me now and we’ll make goop after lunch, or you can stop and we won’t do the science project later because you’re having a hard time paying attention.”

The look on Zitao’s face is so betrayed Junmyeon has to bite his tongue to keep himself from laughing. Still, the little boy picks up his pencil and starts working on addition again, pouting and huffing dramatically every time he finishes a problem. He only had five and he’s getting to the point where he doesn’t have to draw out little tally marks and count them for every number above ten so he’s done in minutes.

“And you’re done! Thank you for listening to me and doing your math,” Yifan kisses Zitao’s temple, turning to let him squirm to the floor and away from the awful math problems. Then the front door opens and Mongryeong comes sprinting into the living room to get his quota of pets from Zitao. “Just in time, they’re here!”

“Merry Christmas,” Baekhyun’s voice is muffled underneath the nearly comedic amount of layers he’s wrapped himself in against the cold. “Did Santa come last night?”

Zitao scoffs from where he’s rolling on the floor with the dog, “Santa isn’t real, Baekhyun, duh!” Junmyeon isn’t sure when or from who Zitao learned it, but Junmyeon’s glad he’ll never have to break that news. “You gotta show your parents that you’re good, then you’ll get the good stuff. That’s what Luhan said.”

“Hey, hey, hey, you promised you’d keep that a secret!” Junmyeon sits up just in time to see Luhan shrink under Minseok’s glare, “I was just telling him the truth! Don’t look at me like that!” Luhan scurries back outside, mumbling about helping Yixing unload the cars.

Pride swells fierce and warm in his chest when Zitao helps put the new presents underneath the tree. Of course, it might have been just so he could give the ones with his name a little shake, but it’s sweet that he’s helping nonetheless.  “Look at how many I can carry!” Zitao’s face lights up, smile brighter than the lights on the Christmas tree, when Yifan takes one of the presents he’s carrying and pretends to stagger under the weight.

Junmyeon’s so enraptured by the sight of his son giggling and showing off his muscles in his Christmas jammies, that he barely notices Baekhyun worming into his blanket cocoon. Junmyeon thinks the matching pajamas are adorable, Yifan calls them embarrassing but he’s still wearing them.

Baekhyun settles his freezing toes against Junmyeon’s leg, sighing contentedly even as Junmyeon’s yelping and tries to pull away. They struggle with the blankets as Junmyeon tries to keep Baekhyun’s ice cold toes away from his legs and Baekhyun does his best to leech heat. Junmyeon eventually manages to jam a few pillows between them and the other man gives up, taking the residual heat left in the blankets as consolation. “How’re you feeling,” he asks, “you look better than last week.”

“I feel better than last week. Not as tired anymore.” Then Junmyeon yawns because he still is pretty damn tired and stuffs the last remaining pillow in Baekhyun’s face before he can make any kind of joke. “Was it this bad for you? I’m pretty sure I slept through the first three days. Scared the hell out of Zitao.” He’d woken up on the Monday after with Zitao tucked into his side, sniffling and clutching at Junmyeon’s shirt like a lifeline. He wouldn’t let Junmyeon out of his sight for the next few days, staying at his side like a sweet little guard dog.

Baekhyun hums and scratches at the scar on his neck distractedly, “Worse. I didn’t exactly have the best, or any, medical care before Yixing, you know? My body couldn’t handle the change and heal at the same time and I think I would’ve died if Yixing’s power wasn’t what it was. It took three months before I fully recovered.”

And if that isn’t one of the most terrifying things Junmyeon’s ever heard. He stuffs that fear way down deep and forces his mind to another subject, one that doesn’t make something ancient and haunting flash in Baekhyun’s eyes. There’s so much that Junmyeon doesn’t know about Baekhyun, so much he doesn’t want to ask about. “Did you guys already open presents?”

Baekhyun shakes his head and points at the steadily growing pile of presents under the tree, “Yixing and I decided it would be more fun to bring them all over here. Most of them are for Zitao anyway. This is his first Christmas in like fifty years, we have to make it a good one.”

And it’s working. Zitao jumps in excitement when he sees all the presents under the tree, giggling and squealing like he just can’t help himself. Junmyeon gladly hands over his duties as Baekhyun’s personal heater to Yixing and joins his son on the floor. Zitao is near bursting with Christmas spirit and the insatiable need to open all the presents, rolling back and forth to let it all out. “I wanna open ‘em _so bad_! Can we just open one, please! It doesn’t have to be mine!”

“We’re waiting for Chanyeol. How would you feel if we opened presents without _you_?”

A huff because waiting at five-years-old is hard. Zitao stares up at the ceiling like it personally reached down and stopped him from opening his gifts, “I would feel sad I guess… but I’m so bored, Mama! Chanyeol’s taking _forever_ and everyone’s busy and doing grown up stuff and won’t come play with me! Baba and Minnie and Luhan are cooking and then you and Baekkie were talking and Yixing doesn’t like me.”

Yixing makes a confused noise from the couch and Baekhyun coos, “Aw, Tao, he loves you! He’s just very, very bad with feelings. He would love to play with you, right, Yixing?” The demon stumbles his way through a _yes_ and Zitao just turns to Junmyeon with a _look_ on his face as if to say _You see what I mean?_

“Well, as you can see, I am not talking to Baekhyun anymore. Thank you for not interrupting us by the way, that was very kind of you,” Junmyeon boops the tip of Zitao’s nose with a smile, “Would you like to go get some toys from your room or put on a movie until Chanyeol gets here?”

“Can we go outside?” Even as Zitao asks, he looks towards the kitchen with a grimace, “Except Luhan has to play away from my snowman.”

Minseok _howls_ with laughter, loud enough that it startles Baekhyun and Yixing from their quiet conversation. “I broke it _one time_ and it was Minseok’s fault – he pushed me! Why is your kid so mean?”

“Junmyeon and I raised him to be honest. And he’s five, tact is not his strong suit,” Yifan is still laughing when he walks into the living room and collapses on the floor next to Junmyeon. “You know Luhan didn’t mean to break your snowman, Tao, it was an accident. He fixed right after too.”

Zitao sighs, nods, “I guess he can play by my snowman…but I’ll be watching.”

“Very diplomatic, honey.”

Luhan does not actually come outside with them, nor do Baekhyun, Minseok, or Yixing. They say it’s too cold. Zitao calls them cowards and Junmyeon reminds him that it’s not a nice thing to say and Yifan that children have ears and are very, very good at repeating everything they hear. Junmyeon huddles in his coat and watches Yifan pull Zitao around the front yard on their sled, going in wide circles around the sacred snowman.

There’s a moment where the sled veers in _just_ too close and Zitao shrieks like he’s in physical pain, “The snowman! Baba, not the snowman!” Yifan cackles and looks over his shoulder to see Zitao miss the snowman by mere inches.

“I can pull both of you,” Yifan comes to a stop in front of him and motions to the sled. On any other day, Junmyeon would love to. Yifan tends to take turns too sharp when he knows Junmyeon is there to catch Zitao, sending them both crashing into snow drifts. But Junmyeon’s _tired,_ all the energy he stockpiled up with his catnaps throughout the day quickly eaten up by the cold. He wants to go back inside and burrow under blankets until he feels a little less unsteady. He doesn’t fully trust himself to keep Zitao from crashing into anything other than the snow.

Zitao looks so excited though. It’s been nearly two weeks since they’ve all gotten to play outside together like this and even longer since Junmyeon and Zitao have crawled out of the snow bank with snow in places they didn’t know it could even reach. Junmyeon can feel his will cracking when his son scoots further up the sled and pats the space behind him. It’s Christmas and Zitao’s been waiting as patiently as a five-year-old can to open his presents.

Snow crunches next to him and Junmyeon nearly jumps out of his skin. “Any reason you guys are chilling in the snow? It’s fu- freaking cold outside,” Chanyeol, a man who Junmyeon has seen create pillars of fire out of thin air, melt rebar with his bare hands, is wrapped in so many layers that it’s a miracle he’s able to move.

“Zitao wanted to play outside while we waited for you,” Junmyeon gestures to where Zitao has left the sled and is face first in the snow, waving his arms and legs like a little madman to make a snow angel.

He pops up when he hears his name and sprints across the snow to wrap himself around Chanyeol’s legs, “Come play with me, Channie! I wanna see how big your snow angel is!”

Chanyeol tries to bluster through an excuse about carrying presents inside but Junmyeon graciously takes the packages from him, “Don’t worry, I’ll carry them for you. You two go have fun before we head inside.” The demon makes a noise of desperate terror as he’s tugged out into the yard. Zitao has a look in his eye that says Chanyeol’s going to have snow down his pants in less than a minute.

“You’re so mean,” Yifan pulls Junmyeon into a hug from behind, “making Chanyeol play out in the cold.” Junmyeon shrugs and leans back into his husband’s – they made a cake last weekend and were officially married in theirs’ and Zitao’s eyes, the only eyes that count – warmth. “You know… with how clumsy he is, I bet he’ll knock over the snowman before we go inside.”

And he calls Junmyeon mean. “Ten minutes tops. Zitao likes to push people over in the snow and Chanyeol wasn’t here yesterday when Luhan knocked it down. We should probably actually tell him. Zitao’s going to be so upset if Frosty gets destroyed again.”

“Shit, yeah, you’re right. I’ll go tell him before – oh good fucking god.” Yifan sucks in a breath and they both watch as Zitao gives Chanyeol a playful shove. Chanyeol, sweet, sweet Chanyeol, pretends to be knocked over by Zitao’s strength and falls backwards into Frosty the Snowman. The poor thing didn’t stand a chance. It’s crushed to nothing under Chanyeol’s weight and Zitao’s entire face drops into one of sheer horror. There’s a few moments of pure, terrible silence.

“My… You killed my snowman.” Zitao stands frozen in snow. Junmyeon’s not sure what he expects, maybe for Zitao to throw the sled at Chanyeol or start screaming very, very unkind things in Mandarin like he did with Luhan. Instead, he bursts into tears, face going red as he sobs.

“Oh, oh no! Honey, it’s okay,” Yifan sprints across the yard to pull Zitao up into his arms. Zitao goes easy, burrowing as close to his father’s chest as he can for comfort. He’s outright bawling and every look over to where Chanyeol is still sitting in Frosty’s powdery remains makes him that much more upset.

“F-frosty! Chan-nie killed F-frosty!”

“I know, I saw. I’m so sorry that happened,” Yifan shushes him, “We can make him again. Take a deep breath, Tao. You’re going to make yourself sick.” He attempts to wipe away Zitao’s tears with his sleeve. The little boy buries his face in his father’s shoulder and hiccups through another sob. “He didn’t mean to, I promise. It was an accident.”

Chanyeol finally extricates himself from the scene of the crime and shuffles over to Junmyeon with his head bowed in shame. “I’ll take the presents inside now.”

“Nope,” Junmyeon turns away from Chanyeol’s hands, “you’re going to apologize.”

“But he’s so mad at me. He’s not going to want to talk to me,” Chanyeol whines like a goddamn child. Junmyeon wonders how he managed to surround himself with so many thousand-year-old grown children.

“Apologize, Chanyeol.”

As expected, Zitao won’t look at Chanyeol when he speaks. Junmyeon’s not sure he’s ever seen his son this angry before. Yifan encourages him to accept the apology, but the hurt is too fresh with Frosty’s corpse not even five feet away. The adults collectively decide to head inside and give Zitao some time to calm down – and distract him with the Christmas presents he’s been waiting for so patiently – though Luhan asking about Frosty as soon as they come inside nearly sends Zitao into hysterics again.

It takes nearly half an hour and a cup of hot chocolate, but Zitao eventually lets Chanyeol apologize properly. He’s not _totally_ forgiven, not by a longshot, but Zitao accepts his hug and loses some of the tension in his little shoulders.

“I wanna be Santa,” Zitao nearly explodes out of his skin when Junmyeon says it’s finally time to open presents. Junmyeon wheezes in pain, Zitao’s sharp, bony knees digging into places they really, truly shouldn’t. Not that Zitao notices, he’s too busy scrambling to hand out the gifts piled haphazardly under the tree. No one stops him, just watch as he places everyone’s presents in neat little stacks.

Somewhere between Zitao trying to move the bike Yifan and Junmyeon got him, still wrapped and innocuous in its box, and Luhan sneaking an extra present into Zitao’s pile, Yifan shuffles his way onto the couch and manhandles Junmyeon until they’re curled up together. The human twists his head to the side for a kiss and hums against Yifan’s lips. “Merry Christmas. I love you.”

Yifan pulls back and stars are sparkling in his eyes. Junmyeon’s never going to get used to being stared at like he’s the center of the universe.

Zitao opens his presents first, wrapping paper flying in every direction. Junmyeon and Yifan migrate to the floor to act as damage control after a fist-sized ball of wrapping paper hits Chanyeol in the face. It’s like watching a machine; Zitao reads the name on the tag, thanks whoever got the present for him, and then proceeds to rip the wrapping paper into shreds. He steals the bows off everyone else’s presents as well as his own and sticks them all over Yifan’s face and hair.

“This is what my life has come to. I’m one of the strongest demons in existence and-”

“And you’re a loving father to a five-year-old,” Junmyeon cuts him off with a one of the bows Zitao missed right over his mouth. “Open your presents and stop being dramatic.”

Junmyeon waits until Zitao is sufficiently distracted by helping Yifan put the bike together, a task that really shouldn’t take four demons, two adult men, and a five-year-old to complete yet somehow it does, to start opening his own presents. He’s ninety-nine percent sure Minseok got him a sex toy, because it’s what he’s gotten Junmyeon every year as a running joke since he turned eighteen, so any gifts from him are stuffed away to be opened when there isn’t a child present. Even with Minseok’s gifts set aside, Junmyeon’s pretty sure it’s the most presents he’s ever gotten at one time in his entire life. He wonders if this is what it’s like to have _real_ friends.

There’s a crumpled package partially hidden by a box Junmyeon knows is full of Chef Boyardee because his husband is a _jerk_ and still makes fun of him for eating like a child. He’d recognize Zitao’s handwriting anywhere, though it helps that he can make out _Mama_ on the tag. Junmyeon reaches for it and tips his head at the soft, squishy feeling. There’s a moment of fear that Yifan let Zitao wrap a thing of goop but he gives it another squeeze and it feels like a few little things rather than one squishy disaster waiting to happen.

He opens it and feels his breath catch in the back of his throat because inside are four little stuffed pandas. Three of them are dressed in little outfits and the second largest one is wearing a miniature version of Junmyeon’s favorite shirt and what look like an old pair of Yifan’s sweatpants. He wants to see what the other two have on but he can’t see past the tears in his eyes.

“Do you like it,” Zitao scoots across the floor and watches Junmyeon’s face with big, nervous eyes, “It’s you and me and Baba. Baba helped me pick them out and Baekkie made their clothes and stuff. Do you like it? Did I do a good job?”

Junmyeon tries to choke down the ball of emotion in his throat and fails. He just waves for Zitao to scoot a bit closer and pulls him in for the hug of a lifetime the second he’s in reach. “I love it,” Junmyeon whispers and tries not to hug too hard, “I love you so so so much. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He’s not sure how he got so lucky to have this little ball of sunshine in his life, but he’s not going to question it.

It’s muffled because Zitao’s face is pressed into his shoulder but Junmyeon hears it clear as day, “I love you too, Mama. You’re the best in the _whole wide_ _world_.”

“I’m going to have to punch a wall to feel manly again.”

“Shut the fuck up, Luhan, let them have their moment.”

“Are… Are you crying?”

“Yes, I’m crying. I’m happy for them.”

Junmyeon looks up and sees Minseok non-discreetly wiping at his eyes. He meets his gaze with a smile and gives Zitao one more squeeze before letting him go. Zitao turns around in his lap but doesn’t leave, content to stay right where he is. They set up the little family of pandas underneath the tree with Zitao’s bear in the middle and that’s when Junmyeon remembers the fourth bear, smaller than the rest.

“Who is this one supposed to be?” Zitao shrugs, sheepish and Junmyeon hears Baekhyun coo from the couch.

He looks to Yifan for a clue and the demon shrugs, “He wouldn’t tell me what the fourth one was for, just that he needed four bears.” Zitao squirms and Junmyeon can see the tips of his ears starting to turn red.

Junmyeon kisses his temple, “You can tell me, honey, I want to hear all about the present you got me.” Zitao mumbles something Junmyeon can’t hear, covering his mouth with his hands. “I didn’t hear you. Do you want to whisper it to me?”

“I want it to be for my little brother. I know I don’t have one but I want one, like the kids at the park.” Yixing nearly chokes on his coffee and Minseok’s jaw drops. Junmyeon and Yifan lock eyes over Zitao’s head, faces identical expressions of utter shock and confusion. Junmyeon had thought Zitao just wanted a dog, not a whole other person. “We don’t have to have him super soon, but someday, maybe? I just think it’d be really cool…” Zitao’s voice trails off to a whisper and Junmyeon can see that he’s losing confidence.

“I think it’s something that we’d have to talk about, but thank you for telling us.”

Yifan reaches over and musses Zitao’s hair, “We – uh… we’ll definitely talk about it, TaoTao.”

The rest of the night passes in relative peace. Zitao places all the bears on Junmyeon and Yifan’s dresser, the littlest bear front and center so that it’s the first thing they see in the morning and the last thing they see at night. It’s genius, really.

Chanyeol heads home early, thanks Zitao for the sparkly bright pink scarf and puppy stickers the little boy picked out for him and starts the walk through their conjoined backyards. Everyone else stays for a bit longer, long enough to get suckered into a game of UNO that turns into a humans versus demons steel cage match. Humans win, because Junmyeon learned all his board game tricks from Minseok.

Yixing, who has always seemed level-headed to Junmyeon, if a bit suspicious, gets so angry when it turns out Minseok had been slipping Zitao cards to hide under his bottom that he has to go sit in the car to calm down. Junmyeon’s just glad he didn’t see the pile Baekhyun tucked up his shirt or he might have lost his mind. Baekhyun follows after Yixing though, kissing Zitao on the forehead and giving everyone else hugs before disappearing outside to makes sure his husband doesn’t destroy the neighborhood. Luhan and Yifan run outside after them with all their presents, Luhan because he wants to make fun of Yixing and Yifan because he doesn’t want any more stuff cluttering his living room than he already has.

Junmyeon sees Minseok out the door last and that’s when it really hits him that they’re going to have an infinite number of holidays together. Best friends forever has a much more literal meaning for them than it was ever meant to. “Merry Christmas, Minnie.”

“You too,” Minseok opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again. He takes a deep breath and pulls Junmyeon in for another hug, “Tell him I said this and I’ll show him your middle school pictures, but I’m so happy you and Yifan found each other. He makes you so happy it’s actually a little gross.” Junmyeon smiles so wide his cheeks ache. “Bye, Junmyeon! Bye, Zitao! Merry Christmas and thank you for the coloring book! I love you guys!”

Once he’s certain Minseok is safely in his car, Junmyeon goes on a search for the little love of his life. He finds Zitao in the living room, starfished on his back under the tree, watching the lights change colors.

“What are you doing, panda bear,” Junmyeon wiggles down next to him to see what has his son so mesmerized. Zitao reaches up and pokes at one of the bulbs above his head. He giggles, makes high-pitched little noise in rhythm with the flashing of the lights. It’s infectious and soon Junmyeon is giggling right along with him. “Blink. Blink. Blink.”

“Blink. Blink.”

“Blink. Blink. Blink. Blink.”

“I want to know what’s going on, but I feel like you two are on an entirely different planet right now.” Junmyeon looks away from the lights to see Yifan watching them from the hall. He’s devastatingly handsome in the Christmas pajamas he swears he hates but still wears because Junmyeon loves them and the bows Zitao stuck in his hair. That’s the man he’s going to spend the rest of eternity with.

“C’mere, baby, the lights look really cool from down here,” Junmyeon holds his arms out and Yifan doesn’t need another reason to move. He pecks Junmyeon on the lips and settles on Zitao’s other side. Zitao narrates the changing of the lights for a little while longer, but then Junmyeon can see his eyelids start to droop. Junmyeon taps the side of Yifan’s leg with his foot and jerks his head to where their son is barely awake. They share a private smile and inch closer because Zitao always falls asleep easier when he knows his parents are right there.

Zitao throws off sleep for a few moments, eyes tired but focused. He yawns, “Can I sleep with you tonight?”

“Of course,” Yifan rolls to his feet, picking Zitao up and balancing him on his hip, “just feeling cuddly tonight?”

Another yawn, “Yeah, I guess. Just wanna be with you and Mama.”

Yifan turns to Junmyeon, “You coming, darling?”

“In a minute, there’s something I need to grab.” Yifan shrugs and heads off to their room, singing softly to Zitao as he walks. Junmyeon waits until he hears the door open and then grabs a present he’d hidden in the tree itself.

It had taken a lot of bargaining with Luhan and Yixing, but it’s so worth it to hold it in his hands. How Yifan hadn’t thought of it already, Junmyeon has no idea. But in his hands is a perfectly legal document declaring Junmyeon and Yifan Kim as the parents to one Zitao Kim. He feels a little bad about changing Zitao’s last name without permission but it made the paperwork go through faster and it takes away the last connection they had to JiaJia. Junmyeon props it up on the kitchen table for Yifan and Zitao to find in the morning.

Then he goes back to his husband and their son and takes comfort in the knowledge that his life can’t get any better than this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! If you did, I would love it if you were so kind as to leave a kudos and a comment. Also feel free to come talk to me! I'm killmeDO on [Tumblr,](http://killmedo.tumblr.com/) [Twitter,](https://twitter.com/killmeDO?lang=en) and [Curious Cat!](https://curiouscat.me/killmeDO) please come ask questions about the story or anything else! (I love talking to you guys and I would love to hear what you think of this story!)


	16. XVI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are, at the end. I am so thankful to all of you who have read this story, whether you started at chapter one or just found this story a few hours ago, thank you for sticking to the end with me. This story, since I first started working on it almost exactly one year ago, has been a source of joy and frustration and inspiration. I am so thankful to have so many wonderful readers who love this story just as much as I do and treat me and my fics with such kindness. Each and every one of you mean a lot to me and I hope to see you all again.
> 
> A warning for this chapter, there is some graphic violence that I want you to be aware of. Please, do not force yourself through it if it's too much. Also, I am well aware of how cheesy the ending is, but humor me hahah. 
> 
> AND!!!! Watch my twitter and this series for Friday. I have a special surprise for all of you <3 I'll link it here and on Twitter when it's read. (my twitter is in the end notes hahaha) [The special thing!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15368949)
> 
> And finally, thank you [Aarushi](https://twitter.com/AarushiC_18) for being with this story from the beginning and helping to shape it to what it is today. I couldn't do it without you <3

Junmyeon knows something is wrong before he even parks the car. Yifan's car is in the driveway. Yifan is not supposed to be home when Junmyeon gets home on Tuesday. He is supposed to be picking Zitao up from Baekhyun's house. That’s the deal, Zitao spends every Tuesday with Baekhyun and Yifan gets actual work done as an accountant for Yixing and Luhan's company. That's how it goes. Yifan is, under no circumstances, supposed to be home right now.

He pulls into the driveway and something like lead drops in his stomach. All four of Yifan's tires are slashed. Junmyeon checks his phone. No new texts from Yifan about punks slashing his tires or asking him to pick Zitao up on the way home. Yifan is good about that sort of thing; he makes sure to communicate what he needs when he needs it.

Something is wrong.

The front door is open. Not open, bashed outwards and hanging off its hinges, door knob missing and glass shattered. The house is silent.

Something is wrong.

The coat rack is knocked over. The living room is trashed, symbols Junmyeon never thought he'd see again painted on the walls. Yifan's desk is destroyed. The photo Minseok took of the three of them on New Year's has been thrown against the wall. Yifan's face is crossed out and Junmyeon's is circled in what Junmyeon hopes is dark red ink. Junmyeon's dragon is the only thing unscathed and he grabs it on autopilot. The solid weight of it brings him some comfort, but it doesn't stop the odd floaty feeling in his head.

"Yifan," he calls. "Yifan? Where are you?" The house stays silent for a heartbeat. Then someone groans from the bedroom. Junmyeon stumbles over his own feet and trips into the wall in his rush to get to Yifan. He just needs to know that Yifan is okay.

Chanyeol is barely conscious on the floor of his and Yifan's room, blood leaking out of his nose and mouth. There's no sign of Yifan anywhere.

Something is _wrong_.

"Go," Chanyeol mumbles. One pupil is blown wide and the other barely reacts when Junmyeon drops down and waves his hand over the demon’s face. "Ya gotta...ya gotta get 'myeon and Tao. Go, 'fan, 'll be fine." He coughs and more blood comes up. Junmyeon doesn't think he even knows who he's talking to.

"Chanyeol, can you hear me? Do you know where you are?" Chanyeol's eyes find him and try to focus, but it's like something has disconnected in his brain. "Just keep breathing. I'll call Yixing." Junmyeon fishes his phone out of his bag but feels his blood run cold before he can hit the call button. "Chanyeol," Junmyeon whispers, "where's Yifan?"

Chanyeol's eyes focus on him for a moment and guilt pours over his face. "'m sorry, Jun. So many of 'em. Too many. Couldn't stop 'em." His breathing comes quicker, more labored. Chanyeol turns his face away and cries. "So sorry. They took him. I'm so sorry!"

Junmyeon expected himself to cry. He expected himself to fall apart and curl up and die right next to Chanyeol. They had a plan to keep Yifan safe and it failed. It failed and now Yifan is going to die. Chanyeol is going to die. God, they're going to come after Junmyeon and Zitao and then they'll die too.

Junmyeon expected to cry. Junmyeon roars instead. He soothes Chanyeol the best he can and calls Yixing. "Chanyeol is at my house and he's dying. They took Yifan. I'm getting him back. Tell Zitao I love him more than anything. Don't let him know there's anything wrong.” He doesn't recognize his own voice. Yixing yells at him over the phone to wait for them to get there before acting. Junmyeon's never heard Yixing raise his voice. He still hangs up.

"Yixing will be here soon, Yeol. Just hang on until then." It takes Chanyeol too long to process what Junmyeon's said. Long enough that he's too slow to stop Junmyeon from leaving. There's a trickle of blood coming out of his ears now. Junmyeon fucking prays Yixing hurries. Chanyeol has an hour left maybe. Junmyeon doesn't know how long he's been laying here.

Junmyeon doesn't know how long Yifan has left either.

Junmyeon knows he's not thinking right. He's useless in a fight and running on pure animal instinct. But he can't let Yifan go without a fight. That's his husband and the hunters will have to pry him out of Junmyeon's cold, dead hands. Junmyeon feels like he's watching his body from the outside, a bystander to his own world falling to pieces.

It's not until he's in the car that he realizes he has no idea where Yifan is. Chanyeol had never been able to track the hunters back to their base. Chanyeol had never been able to track them in the first place. The hunters are better this time, smarter. Yifan could be anywhere. Junmyeon _screams_ and punches the steering wheel. How can they just _take_ Yifan away like this? Junmyeon thought he knew what misery felt like before. He was wrong, he was so so wrong. This is a pain unlike anything he's ever felt before.

There's a pulse of answering agony in his chest. It's muted, like being punched through a bulletproof vest, but Junmyeon feels it echo in his ribs. He pushes more misery down and feels pain like a phantom limb.

It's happened before; Junmyeon knew when Yifan got the test results back that said Zitao was eligible to enroll in first grade, he felt Yifan's happiness like an echo of his own. "You fucking blocked your end," Junmyeon hisses and lets the anger and misery fuel him enough to reach down into himself and pull at the tether from him to Yifan.

Yifan's end is empty and superficial, like a cast on a broken bone. There's nothing there but hole where the demon's every emotion should be. Junmyeon pulls and pulls. He broke his arm when he was ten falling out of a tree in the park because he tried to get Minseok's frisbee down. When it finally healed the doctor sawed the cast open and told him how one patient once cracked off their own casts by slamming it into a wall. Plaster will break if given enough pressure.

The cast over Yifan's end of the bond cracks open too. Junmyeon doesn't have time to brace himself before he's inundated with wave after wave of pain and anger and fear. So much fear. He can feel Yifan's anger at him for breaking the bond open but he doesn't care. Yifan's alive and conscious and aware. _Yifan's alive_.

Junmyeon pulls hard on the tether and can feel Yifan's like a part of his own body. Finding him is like finding his own hand.

Junmyeon puts the car in gear and floors it. He's not even out of the neighborhood before his phone buzzes with _Minnie!_ on the display. He lets the call go to voicemail. It rings again. And again and again and again. Junmyeon comes to a stoplight and hits the answer button with all the anger in his body.

" _If you don't answer the fucking-"_

"What do you want?! I'm busy!"

Minseok sobs in relief and Junmyeon tries not to feel bad. He can't let guilt get in his head now, there's too much - _everything_ \- at stake. " _Oh thank god you're okay. Whatever you're doing or thinking about doing, stop it right now! Wait for Luhan and Yixing. They'll come pick you up and we'll come up with a plan."_

"I don't have time for fucking plans! _Yifan_ doesn't have time! He'll be dead by the time we come up with some bullshit idea that's not even going to work!"

" _How do you know it wouldn't work? We're smart, we'll figure it out. Just stop the car and let me come get you._ " Minseok's voice is so soft, gentle, like he's coaxing a frightened bunny out. Junmyeon wants to believe him but he can't. He fucking can't. Yifan's end of the tether is dimming, becoming harder and harder hold onto. He can't believe Minseok because Yifan will be dead before anyone even manages to find him.

"Because the last plan we had worked out _so_ well. So well that Chanyeol is fucking dying on my fucking bedroom floor and Yifan is dying and I'm not there to help him. _I don't have time!_ " The light turns green and Junmyeon stomps on the gas pedal as hard as he can. His throat burns from screaming.

" _Think about Zitao! He needs you, you can't do this to him! You and Yifan are all he has!_ " And that hurts. Junmyeon hopes no one told him what's happening. Zitao must be so worried, waiting and waiting for Yifan to come get him. His poor baby.

It's then that Junmyeon realizes he might die. He might die and leave Zitao alone, but he doesn't have it in him to turn around and let Yifan die. He can't raise Zitao on his own, he can't do it without Yifan. He prays that Zitao will understand one day why he's doing this. He doesn't want to die, but life without Yifan isn't living at all.

Junmyeon chokes on a sob. "I-if I don't come back, take care of him. Make sure he knows we loved him. I love him so much, so so much, but I can't let Yifan die. I can't take care of him alone."

" _You won't have to! I'll be here, Baekhyun will be here. We'll find a way out of this please just-"_ Junmyeon ends the call and throws the phone in the backseat. Minseok doesn't understand. He wouldn't let Luhan go if he were in Junmyeon's shoes and they are just now calling themselves a couple.

Yifan's end lights up in white hot agony and Junmyeon's mind bursts into rage so thick and strong he can't even think. Time stretches into nothingness and the world around him fades into shades of grey speeding passed his window. Yifan gets closer and closer with each roaring pulse in his ears. Just a little farther.

Junmyeon expected the abandoned apartment building on the other side of the city from Luhan's place. Somewhere creepy and decrepit and radiating evil energy. It would have made sense, if more than a little cliché. He's ready to walk into a building older than Zitao and run through crumbling stairwells. Junmyeon follows the tether and waits for it to take him to some run-down disaster of a building.

The tether leads him to a real estate office instead. His world tips sideways when he sees the name on the sign outside. _Donna Annod_. It's a fake name.

_"Donna got really pale, Mama," Zitao says as Junmyeon rinses the shampoo out of his hair, "She used to be really tan, tanner than Moana. And she used to have really dark and curly hair. Her hair was so pretty, she used to have braids all the time and let me pick beads to go on the end!"_

The Donna on the sign, the Donna Junmyeon let in his house, is a white woman with straight hair. He hasn't seen her since the night with JiaJia. How had he never noticed? He's such an idiot. They'd been watching him all along, hadn't they? Yifan trusted Donna because Junmyeon trusted her, he wouldn't suspect her.

The front door had been bashed outwards. Yifan had let her walk right in. It's all Junmyeon's fault. Why didn't he look further into Zitao's case? He never touched it after Donna's story. How did she know what happened to Zitao? He really doesn't need to ask, does he? These monsters have killed other people for far less than information.

There was a real Donna once, a Donna who risked her own life for Zitao. After he rips the impostor and every other hunter to shreds he'll find her grave and pay his respects.

Junmyeon slams the car door and stalks up to the building. The front door is locked, of course. The receptionist smiles at him through the window and waves, giggling at the angry tears running down his face. Yifan's end of the bond starts to waver out of existence. There's no time to find a back door. There's no time to _think._ Something snaps inside him and runs back to the car, grabs the tire iron in the trunk, and throws it as hard as he can through the front window. The glass cuts him up when he crawls through but stitches are nothing compared to the way his lungs feel like they can't get enough air.

The receptionist is waiting for him. "Get on the ground! I don't to have to hurt you!" Junmyeon wants to laugh. She's pointing a shotgun at him at point-blank range, of course she wants to hurt him. Junmyeon's ears ring and then she drops to ground, water pouring out of her mouth. He doesn't know what Yifan did, but he's so grateful. Junmyeon leaves the shotgun behind. The safety is on and he doesn't know how to turn it off. It'd just be a heavier tire iron.

There's only one door to the rest of the building, padlocked shut and made of reinforced steel. Junmyeon throws himself at it and _cries._ His ears ring louder, a heartbeat push-and-pull. His face feels dry. The lock falls off, sliced cleanly down the middle. It's like he's living underwater, the whole world is muted and slow.

The door swings open with the lock gone and Junmyeon sprints down the stairs behind it. Yifan is so close. So close to him and so close to disappearing forever.

Junmyeon rounds the corner and nearly throws up. He's never seen so much blood. Blood on the floor, on the walls, on the knives in Yifan's chest. There are knives in Yifan's chest. Yifan's lying on a fucking altar and there are knives in his chest. Junmyeon does throw up this time, falling against the wall and trying not to faint. Someone grabs him by the throat and throws him forward. He hits his head on stone and has to blink the spots out of his vision.

Forty people, forty hunters are standing in a circle around them. He hit his head on the altar, apparently. It's right in front of him. More importantly, _Yifan_ is right in front of him. He's so pale, chest rising and falling so slow and shallow it doesn't look like he's breathing. He's chained down, metal shackles glowing with the symbols from the living room. There are five knives in his chest. Junmyeon can see his body trying to close around them and heal but every breath reopens the cuts.

"Yifan?" No response. "Yifan?" Nothing. " _Yifan!"_ He just keeps breathing. Junmyeon didn't know someone could bleed that much.

"He's long gone," someone hisses in his ear and grabs him by his hair, pulling him back until Yifan is out of reach. Junmyeon knows this voice. It sold him his fucking house. "We’re just waiting for the last of the blood to run out. That's what kills them. They can heal themselves if they have any blood left, you have to run them dry. We'll have to do the same to you."

Yifan coughs. Blood spurts out around the knives and runs down his sides. Junmyeon feels himself start to die inside.

_"L is for the way you look at me," Yifan warbles as he leads Junmyeon in a dance around the living room. "O is for the only one I see! V is very very extraordinary!" Junmyeon should've never told him he regretted not going to his high school prom._

_"You're so weird," Junmyeon tries to weasel out of Yifan's hold. Yifan, of course, just grabs on tighter and spins them in circles._

_"It's not weird to be in love with you, darling. You didn't go to prom so I'm bringing prom to you. I'm the perfect prom date, handsome, funny, committed, and more than willing to put out!" Junmyeon laughs so hard he cries and Yifan kisses him, swallows the laughter as it falls from his lips._

The tears come as he thought they would, unending and vicious. Yifan is dying, his slowing pulse like a kick to Junmyeon's chest every heartbeat. He's helpless, useless. All the adrenaline and power he'd used to come this far drains out of him and he falls apart.

Donna shoves him all the way to the ground. He can't even find the strength to fight her. "Ulysses, take one of the smaller knives out of Kris. He'll be dead soon enough without and I can't stand listening to people cry." Through his tears, Junmyeon sees one of the other hunters step forward and pull out the knife lodged in Yifan's ribs. Another woman leans down to grab his chin and make him look her in the eye. He feels like he’s seen her in his nightmares before, the ones that travel through the bond before Yifan can wake up and stop himself. "You understand I have to do this, right? I can't have you coming after me later. Kris took the love of my life away, now I'll do the same and more." Pain burns like fire in his stomach and something hot and wet starts to seep into his clothing.

Junmyeon's ears ring. It sounds like the inside of seashell, the back and forth of the waves. 

"I'll wait for Zitao to grow up before I kill him. Kind of like a gift to you, you know, for making it so easy to kill Kris," the woman shoves the knife in farther and Junmyeon chokes on the pain.

His burn from tears and something he can't describe. He squeezes them shut against the pain and the fury roaring like tsunami in his chest. She killed his husband, she's killing him, she's going to kill Zitao. He feels _hate_ crawl up his throat, hate and terror. The waves in his ear get louder and louder. Something creaks above his head. He's everywhere, rushing around the building and rattling the foundation.

"Amelie," Donna calls, "I think you should stop."

Junmyeon is in their bodies too, in every bone, muscle, and nerve. He's in Yifan's body, pushing against the knives. He's in the air, on the ground. He is everywhere. Junmyeon feels _it_ like an extension of his mind. He just needs to push. Plaster on a cast. it will break with enough force. He pushes and pulls back like a wave in the ocean. Over and over and over again. The pressure builds to a fever pitch.

"Stop? So close to victory? You're an idiot, Nora." Junmyeon opens his eyes and the woman freezes. "Oh my god," she whispers, "what are you?"

Junmyeon pushes and the pressure breaks.

Water explodes from the pipes above. Junmyeon watches it pour down like rain from the heavens. It's unending. A flood unlike anything he's ever seen before. The world turns red as more and more water gushes out. One hunter runs for the stairs and Junmyeon feels more water crash down the steps and drown him, water rushing into his lungs and sucking the air away. The water rises higher and higher and higher. It leaves Junmyeon dry, settles over Yifan like a blanket and eases the knives out of his chest.

Another hunter drowns. Then another and another. He doesn't know what happens to their bodies, just that water disappears back into the pipes and the hunters are nowhere to be found. Junmyeon blinks and the room is empty. Empty except for the woman hovering over him with a look of horror and Yifan on the altar.

Junmyeon feels the tether and smiles as Yifan gets stronger. Yifan's going to live. Junmyeon isn't going to lose him.

"You're a monster," she whispers, "a fucking freak. You're worse than one of them. You just killed your own kind!"

Junmyeon's so tired. His shirt is soaked through and sticky. The water didn't touch him though; he doesn’t understand. Still, he turns his head to look the woman in the eye and feels another rush of anger. “You’re one to talk.” She starts to cough, water dribbling out from her nose and eyes. She slumps over to the side. The knife clatters out of her hand and Junmyeon just hums.

It occurs to him that he killed all those people, but it doesn't feel real. He didn't do it, it was someone else. Someone outside his body. Even if it was him, he had to. It was self-defense. He can't go to jail for it.

Someone groans and Junmyeon turns his head to see Yifan heave himself off the altar on shaky limbs, swearing in every language he knows. Junmyeon starts to cry again. He wants to get up and go to the demon but his lower body won't move. Junmyeon just needs a hug, he needs to know everything is going to be alright. Yifan's jaw drops open when he sees Junmyeon and the demon collapses to the floor, crawling on hands and knees. He's still so pale, but there's life in his eyes, thrumming under his skin.

"Oh fuck, oh my god. Junmyeon, how did you- What happened? No, fuck that, never mind. I'm here, I've got you," Yifan rambles and presses kisses along Junmyeon's forehead. It feels so good. Junmyeon tries to press up into them but Yifan pushes him back down. Junmyeon wouldn't have been able to get up anyway, he's dizzy and his vision is starting to gray at the edges.

Yifan touches Junmyeon's stomach and he tries to pull away. He doesn't understand why his stomach hurts so badly. "Hey, hey, it's alright. Can you keep looking at me, darling? Only at me, nowhere else." Yifan presses down more firmly and pain rockets up Junmyeon's spine. "I know it hurts, I'm sorry. Just stay with me, okay? Give me a few more minutes and I can fix this, I'm just a little too tired right now." Junmyeon doesn't know why Yifan's crying, whispering frantically to himself as he presses both hands over Junmyeon's belly, but he doesn't like it.

"Love you." Junmyeon tries to reach for Yifan but his hand won't cooperate. Yifan doesn't smile like he usually does when Junmyeon says he loves him. He tries again, "I love you." Yifan shushes him and kisses his forehead again. He needs to hear it though. Junmyeon needs to hear him say it back.

"I love you too," Yifan says after Junmyeon starts to cry again, too tired and hurt to handle any sort of negative emotion. "I love you so much, that's why I need you to stay awake." Junmyeon doesn't want to stay awake. He's tired, he wants to go to bed. Yifan said that he would be fine, so then he can go to sleep. Yifan will take care of him. Junmyeon wants a blanket too, he's really cold.

Junmyeon keeps trying to fall asleep, head lolling from one side to the other as the exhaustion gets worse and worse. Yifan yells at him when he does, shocking him awake, and then murmurs apologies against his lips for scaring him. Yifan is so warm, Junmyeon wants to burrow into his side and never come back out.

Time becomes meaningless. It feels like eternity. It feels like it's only been a second. Junmyeon's eyes flutter shut and won’t open again. Yifan yells at him, kisses his cheek, begs him to open his eyes. Junmyeon wants to just so Yifan won't cry, but he's so _tired_. He just wants a nap and then he'll stay awake for however long Yifan wants him too.

Thundering on the stairs. Yifan screams for help.

Just a nap.

"Oh holy shit," it sounds like Luhan but Junmyeon's not sure. "I’m never supposed to be able to _see_ the intestines, right?"

 _“Help him!"_ Yifan sounds so upset. Junmyeon will comfort him after a nap.

Just...

                 a...

                               nap...

* * *

It's dark outside when Junmyeon wakes. It's almost always dark outside when he wakes up now, having an infant tends to do that to a person. Yifan rolls over and groans into his pillow, "What could he possibly be upset about now? I fed him, you changed him, and we both sang him to sleep. Isn't that what babies need?"

Junmyeon squints at the alarm clock on Yifan's nightstand and nearly dies when he sees it's almost three-thirty. How he hasn't died of sleep deprivation yet, he'll never know. "That was five hours ago, babe. He's probably hungry again. or maybe he just woke up and got scared, that happened to Zitao and he was five."

It still happens sometimes and Zitao will be turning eight in two weeks. Junmyeon doesn't like to think about Zitao's birthday because then he realizes his baby is growing up and then he cries for two hours with old photo albums. Yifan thought it was hilarious until Junmyeon showed him the pictures from Zitao's sixth birthday party and then they cried about the unending passage of time together.

His other baby, the one that's physically an infant, is still wailing from the bedroom across the hall. "Go back to sleep," Junmyeon murmurs and kisses Yifan's cheek, "I've got him this time."

"That might be the sexiest thing you've ever said to me," Yifan smiles at him and leans up for a real kiss. Junmyeon smacks his ass instead. "No, too tired for sex." Junmyeon wonders when Yifan became so whiney. Probably after the the third night in a row of being woken up by their youngest son wailing from the other room. "Just go calm him down and come back to bed."

Junmyeon rolls off the bed and shakes of the last bits of sleep left in his mind. The scar on his stomach pulls a little when he twists a little too far and he bites back a hiss. Yifan gets fussy and overbearing when he's reminded of the hunters. It drives Junmyeon insane.

It's been two years since the woman who locked Yifan away all those years ago cut his belly open; this is as healed as he's going to get. Yifan needs to let it go and move on. Junmyeon knows he won't, and when he's not sleep-deprived he understands. Yifan felt Junmyeon's heart stop, it would have fucked anyone up in that situation. If Yixing and Luhan hadn't tracked his phone and shown up at that exact moment, there would have been no saving him. As it was, Yixing was drained from bringing Chanyeol back from the brink of death, he'd barely been able to heal Junmyeon enough for Yifan to get his heart going again.

The wound on his stomach had healed the human way, a scarred reminder of how close he and Yifan came to death. A reminder of the incredible things Junmyeon can do when backed into a corner. He's never been able to create a flood again, but he can still feel the water rushing through the pipes now and again. No one knows how he did it. Junmyeon doesn't care about the how, just that he did.

Yixing has offered to get rid of Junmyeon's scar more than once. Junmyeon declined each and every time. He loves the big, ugly scar running across his belly, it reminds him of how far he'll go for his family, newest member included.

"Oh, Soo," Junmyeon coos and settles the baby against his chest, "why are you crying, hm? Are you hungry or did you just have a bad dream?" Kyungsoo's wails trail off into hiccups as he stares up Junmyeon with those big, beautiful eyes. His eyes had been the first thing Junmyeon noticed when Yifan reappeared in the living room after a summoning with a newborn in his arms.

_"The woman offered to kill her newborn to heal her daughter. I told her I'd heal her daughter but I couldn't just let him die. Please, don't be mad at me, darling, I just couldn't let what happened to Zitao happen again."_

Junmyeon remembers picking him out of Yifan's arms and falling in love with those eyes and the way he glared at the world for being too noisy and bright and cold. He couldn't make himself put Kyungsoo down for hours. Zitao had been asking for a baby brother again anyway. Almost four months later and Junmyeon thinks fate set up the dominoes in just the perfect way to bring Kyungsoo to them.          Kyungsoo stops crying as Junmyeon rocks him, little mouth opening wide around a yawn. "There's my sweet baby! You just wanted some attention, didn't you? I know, I know. You miss sleeping in Mama and Baba's room, but Baba talks in his sleep and it kept waking you up! My Kyungsoo needs all the sleep he can get so he can grow up big and strong." Junmyeon's a little addicted to Kyungsoo's smile. He can't help but lean down and coo when his baby reaches for his face and gives him that gummy smile.

"Look who else woke up," Junmyeon pulls his face out of Kyungsoo's little hands to see Yifan standing with a half-asleep Zitao in his arms. "He had a bad dream and then Soo's crying scared him. Poor TaoTao, getting scared by your little brother." Zitao huffs into Yifan's shoulder and mumbles something incoherent. "How's Kyungsoo, all better?"

"Mhmm, he's feeling much better," Junmyeon shuffles Kyungsoo a little higher in his arms until the baby can get a good look at Yifan.

"Good," Yifan says after he kisses Kyungsoo's forehead, "have to make sure both our babies are happy and healthy. You're not going to go back to sleep unless we hold you, aren't you, Soo?" Kyungsoo coos, eyes growing heavy as he takes comfort in all the affection, and Junmyeon already knows it's a yes. Kyungsoo never falls asleep unless it's in someone's arms.            

"Go put Zitao in our bed and grab the port-a-crib, please? I think it'll be easier on all of us to just sleep together tonight."

"That's what you say every night. I think you want them close more than they need to be close." Yifan laughs but goes to tuck Zitao in regardless.

Junmyeon pretends to kick Yifan in the shin as he walks away and the demon sticks his tongue out like a grown child. "Your Baba is asking for an ass-kicking, Soo, did you know that? Yes, he is. You haven't slept in our room in two weeks, there's nothing wrong with making an exception. Right?" Kyungsoo shoves his own fingers in his mouth and sucks on them, eyes fluttering open at Junmyeon's voice before closing again. "That's right! You're so smart, Soo, you always know who's right."

Zitao's still awake when Junmyeon comes in, rolling around in the sheets as he fights sleep. Kyungsoo is almost there, hovering on the border of dreams and reality. "I don't wanna go to sleep yet," Zitao mumbles when Yifan sits down next to him and tries to soothe him to sleep. "I want the goodnight song, please?"

Junmyeon remembers the first night he ever sang the goodnight song, when he'd woken up from death to Zitao screaming at Yifan that he didn't want to leave his side. He remembers holding Zitao as the little boy cried, so young but smart enough to understand how close he'd been to losing his parents, and humming into his hair. He'd been so confused, half out of his mind from blood loss, but he'd wanted to ease the terror in Zitao's eyes. Zitao stopped crying after the first verse and he was half-way to sleep when the song ended.

Junmyeon sang it every night for three months afterwards.

It's been a long time since he sang it, maybe three weeks. Junmyeon can't see a reason not to sing it now. He hands Kyungsoo to Yifan and the demon pulls the crib right up next to the bed for easy access. Zitao crawls into Junmyeon's lap, almost too big now that he's coming up on eight years old, but Junmyeon rocks him like he did when he was five.

"One time, okay? Then it's bedtime." Junmyeon kisses Zitao's temple when the boy nods. He clears his throat and hums for a moment, "Lay by my side and we'll sail away-"

"Off to the shores of another day," Yifan joins in, voice low and rumbling as he sways to the rhythm. Junmyeon's heart swells with love; Yifan is always so off-key but utterly shameless when he sings. Junmyeon remembers the two spirits singing Disney songs while he cooked all those years ago.

"All set to go once I hear you say: Goodnight, my love, until the morning." Junmyeon watches as Zitao starts to drift, hands curling into half-fists and mouth dropping open. He's grown so much since Junmyeon first met him, a wooden car rolling toward him and soft footsteps up and down the hallway. Zitao's grown so much and Junmyeon is so proud him every day.

Kyungsoo is already asleep, moonlight reflecting off the drool leaking out of the corner of his mouth. The song swells to its climax and he doesn't stir in the slightest. Not even when Yifan kisses his nose and lays him in the crib. Yifan crawls into the bed and curls into Junmyeon's side, smoothing Zitao's hair back from his face. He pulls Zitao out of Junmyeon's arms and settles him under the covers.

They could stop singing now, the boys are dead asleep. Instead, Yifan cups the side of Junmyeon's face and sings the rest of the lullaby against his lips, "Goodnight. Sleep tight. We're gonna be alright. Goodnight, my love."

"I love you," Junmyeon whispers, "I love you so much." He blames exhaustion for the tears pooling in his eyes.

Yifan kisses him, slow and sweet, "I love you, darling, more than you will ever know."

He knows. Junmyeon can feel it like a balloon in his chest, growing larger and larger every day. Yifan loves him more than all the stars in the sky, more than all the fish in the ocean, more than life itself. Yifan has loved him since before the beginning of time.

Junmyeon knows because he feels the exact same.

And that's how it always will be.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! If you did, I would love it if you were so kind as to leave a kudos and a comment or come talk to me at on [ Twitter. ](https://twitter.com/killmeDO) I also opened up a [ Curious Cat ](https://curiouscat.me/killmeDO) please come ask questions about the story or anything else! (I love talking to you guys and I would love to hear what you think of this story!)


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